garden plans

The sun was shining this morning when I woke up and settled in on the front porch for my usual coffee and email routine. I spent the day yesterday drawing up grand plans for the summer garden, plotting what will go where and which spots might be suitable for more fruit trees, an arbor hanging with vines, crawling cucumbers and sprawling squash. It seems each year brings new ideas as the garden expands. And so, this morning I drew diagrams and calculated supply needs, measured post lengths and concentrated on the construction details.

M is now on a supply trip to Home Depot where he will pick up all the materials we will need to construct a few grape trellises in our front yard. The plan is to build something permanent to support the swiftly growing Pinot Noir vine we received by post from Davis, California a few years back. It spent its first year cramped in a pot, and only last summer were its roots finally permitted to sink deep into the rich soil of the garden. Our friend W sent it to us as a gift. I would hate to murder it by accident or neglect. So, we will build a support for it using 4x4s and smaller cross-pieces. I hope to incorporate it into a larger, taller trellis to house a rotating array of annual summer climbers, either vegetables or flowers depending on my mood each year. We would also like to plant two table grape vines directly in front of the house that will crawl up each side of yet another support system. This should provide greater privacy from the traffic on the street and gift our table with fresh autumn sweetness.

Yet even as I plan and draw and scheme, I am aware that my ideas change and next year we might well rip up this year's work and start again with something new. I wonder if I might not wish to move the blueberries someday. I imagine a fig tree instead of a trellis, rhododedrons instead of a fig. There are so many possibilities, it is difficult to settle upon just one.

Last night as we loitered over cool glasses of Reisling in the fading light of the garden, I crawled up into a crook in the apple tree on a whim -I had never thought to climb our apple tree before. We imagined how fun it would be to build a little platform nestled between the three arching branches, like a fort we might have built decades ago in an effort to carve out a little private space far from the claustrophobic ministrations of parents. M exclaimed, "how strange it is to think that this apple tree is ours!" We could cut it down if we like, or build a fort in its canopy. We could harvest all the apples and throw them in the rubbish bin, or we could use them to bake a fresh hot pie. M gestured at the long strands of arugula, waving wildly, its flowers scattering seeds every which way -"that too is ours." And the spruce tree with its lopped off limbs, even that forest goliath belongs to us. It does not make a whit of sense to own living, growing things, but nevertheless -so it is.

The day is quickly disappearing. I wonder if we'll have time to do all the tasks we've set for ourselves. I am glad that the sun lingers above the horizon a little longer each day as the summer approaches. Soon it will be over, and another winter will cover our hearts. But for now, my spirit rejoices in anticipation of long, hot summer days, the scent of blooming roses, sweet grapes, and the dripping tart juice of tomatoes ripened on the vine.