Brentwood Garden

Well, I think that I will stop here for a bit and talk about my garden in Brentwood Community Gardens for a bit.

The last week has been such beautiful weather that everyone, including me, has been out in the heat, enjoying the digging and the back breaking work in our gardens that we no doubt spent hours and hours dreaming about last winter. We are finally warm and getting use to the bright, southern California-like sunshine. I have bubbles on my shoulder skin to prove this.

I spent at least 7 hours weeding and more cutting down the blackberry bushes that I did not want in various areas of my garlic and flower plots and along some fences. I do like them and have them along the southwest side of my garden and they keep the big dogs in the yard below my garden quiet and hidden.

I took out my turtle garden, as he left me. Cleaned out from under my garden table by weeding and stacking sticks which I will take to the woods this summer and burn in a camp fire.
Transplanted tomato plants to the garlic and peas. Transplanted the cabbage to the x-tomato plot.

I turned over my compost pile that has been generating soil sense February and lo and behold found lots of nice dirt (compost).

Joe, my west neighbor promises me green beans soon. Melinda, my northern neighbor and I spent the day Thursday or Friday working together. Which brings to mind one of Robert Frost poems: The Tuft of Flowers
by: Robert Frost

I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been -- alone,

'As all must be,' I said within my heart,
'Whether they work together or apart.'

But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly,

Seeking with memories grown dim o'er night
Some resting flower of yesterday's delight.

And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him.
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

'Men work together,' I told him from the heart,
'Whether they work together or apart.'



I have a garden room. Only one other gardener has a garden room in the garden community. Most have rows. Melinda divides her garden in five or six rectangular plots of rich, thick soil and big impressive vegetables!

I am afraid that my soil is wanting! I have little money to buy fertilizer and I believe a huge photo of my garden should be put up as an example of the results of a garden lacking fertilizer!

On June the first I will add corn, pumpkins and I hope the green beans will be in!

Lots of fun!