May 2022 in the Garden

Not much was happening in the garden in April, but now things are really starting to take off.

It’s an exciting time of year. So many little changes each day. So much potential. So much to look forward to. I’m especially excited about all I can eat from the garden. I planted those pink-flowered strawberries this year, a variety called Berried Treasure. All my other strawberry plants are wild strawberries I dug from my parents’ meadow.

They have the tiniest berries which I love for their irony (no giant strawberries in my garden*).

Eating in and from the garden is even more exciting this year with our new pizza oven. We finally tried it out last week.

Matthias bought it at the beginning of summer last year but because of supply issues, it didn’t arrive till around Thanksgiving. Now I’m dreaming of all the pizza ingredients just getting started in the garden.

With how strange our season has been, I thought I’d look back at last May's garden post to compare where we are with last year (I found I also have a garden update from May 2020).

Even with our record-breaking temperatures last week (which rushed tulips and daffodils and other flowers to bloom and crumple within a few days), the garden is behind in some ways (those strawberries, for one).

I wonder, though, if there’s ever such a thing as a “normal” year in the garden.

Probably not.

view of the garden looking northeast

Every year — no matter if spring is early or late, slow or fast — the garden looks bare in May.

With all those empty spaces I feel pressure to hurry up and get things planted. To finish projects and “finish” the garden. It’s the same every year. Perhaps a bit moreso this year as I wasn’t able to get outside quite as early.

But the garden is never finished. It’s always a work in progress. There’s always something else to take care of. Always another project to tackle. Some will happen this year. Some won’t. Some may never happen or might be replaced by other ideas.

view of the garden looking southeast

A couple of weeks ago I found a metal fire ring discarded at the curb. I snatched it up, thinking it would make a perfect garden bed. This spot in the garden was going to become a little patio.

view of the garden looking southwest

I think a raised bed is a better idea. Matthias and I were both happy to get rid of more grass** (cardboard and mulch make quick and easy paths).

Balancing with the urgency of spring is the waiting game of May.

Waiting for the right time to plant seeds. Waiting for seeds to germinate. Waiting for the right time to transplant new plants and the seedlings I started inside.

(Those are the same tomato plants you saw last month!)

May means waiting to see which perennials came back.

And waiting to see which volunteered sprouts are plants I actually want. Some are obvious immediately, like these baby poppies and dill:

Others are a bit of a mystery at first.

Hurry. Wait.

Wait. Hurry.

In some ways I’m already getting left behind. I cut flowers and mixed paint but the heat withered them before I had a chance to paint them.

They’re finished in the garden, too. It happens every year. Sometimes I miss the chance to paint from life. But there’s always the next thing. It’s only May.

I’m trying to slow myself down, even if nature’s speed can be erratic.

The cherry blossoms came

and went within a few days. My tree (really a shrub — it’s a variety called Juliet) was filled with flowers this year. I hope it means it will be filled with fruit, too.

For the first year since planting them there are flowers on one of my columnar apple trees.

Are there other apple trees close enough for me to get some apples? We’ll see.

I’m growing a few new things this year. Collards are one. The variety is Georgia Southern.

I started the seedlings inside and they’re looking so good. I’m also growing cantaloupe (Minnesota Midget) for the first time, though those seeds haven’t come up yet. I’ll have to think if there’s anything else new. I’ll keep you posted.

One of the things I love most about being in the garden is the garden visitors who keep me company.

I see toads just about every day. Sometimes I hear them (and the elusive tree frogs) singing. The air is always filled with birdsong. This year the catbirds have been constant companions.

And, of course, the dogs. Clara loves being in the garden and this is Fiona’s first spring (she wasn’t here in time for last year’s dogs in the garden post. Her debut was in July).

She doesn’t like being outside as much as Clara does, but she’s learning. She’s happiest when we’re all outside. And so am I.

So many delights.

My patch of lily of the valley is filling out a bit more this year (and yes, there’s some Creeping Charlie. I have a soft spot for it even though it threatens to take over).

The pulmonaria looks wonderful right now.

I planted bulbs in the fall (some, as you already saw above, are in the vegetable beds) and was happy to see them all coming up as spring developed.

I didn’t get any flowers on my snowdrops but perhaps they’ll fill out in a few years like the grape hyacinths and lily of the valley.

These species tulips ended up being more yellow than I thought they’d be, but they’re sweet and cheerful (they’re supposed to be a variety called Bright Gem).

And that’s the best part of my garden. The joy it brings me.

The joy of growing tiny strawberries and noticing toads showering beneath the spray of the hose. The joy of plants returning year after year and of surprise seedlings showing up here or there. The joy of trying something new or planting something just to make me smile.

Slow down, I tell myself. Slow down and savor.

It’s only May. The rest of the spring and summer lies ahead, filled with beauty. Filled with joy. Filled with inspiration.

What about you? What’s been happening in your garden? Or if you don’t have a garden, what have you been noticing about the changing season? I hope you’re discovering delights to savor.

*In truth it isn’t ironic (and not just a’la Alanis Morissette). The giant strawberry was never real, which, to me, is part of its charm. The giant strawberry is a dream. It’s creativity. Imagination. Joy.

**I’m reading Michael Pollan’s book Second Nature right now and find all the discussion of lawns fascinating. Matthias and I are not lawn people. Our lawns have always been patchy and scruffy and filled with weeds and we’ve always chipped away at them, replacing grass with gardens. Fertilizer? Herbicides? Sprinklers? Why bother. Our backyard has two small spots of grass. We had thought about trying No Mow May but when I couldn’t find Fiona in the tall grass we decided it wouldn’t quite work. We’re mowing our tiny front yard, too, but providing plenty of food for bees and other wildlife with dandelions, other weeds and all of our garden flowers.