From:
Robert Jones
Date:
Jul 22 15:43 UTC
Short link
. . . we couldn't even spell farmur -- and now we are one.
When my neighbor, Meredith, and I first planted our backyard vegetable
garden in early May, we had no idea how to do it. I wrote in here to this
list for advice on the garden and starting a compost pile. Some of the
advice we got was spot-on and some of it was so complicated that we still
don't understand it. However, we are now *eating* broccoli, green beans
(purple on the vine yet green when cooked), radishes and some kind of leafy
greens several times a week. The marigolds continue to delight us every day
with a continuing blast of color. A hummingbird and butterfly flower garden
has sprouted and continues to bring a promise of visual delight for the
future. And soon we will also be eating yellow summer squash, polano and
sweet bell peppers, cucumbers, eggplant, Kentucky Wonders, baby corn,
potatoes and even tomatoes. Planting a vegetable garden is a very fulfilling
thing to do. If we can do it -- you can do it. If you don't have a space to
plant your seeds, contact Bob Wallace about getting a plot at the new
community vegetable garden at Miguel and Georgina's place on Taos Street.
Soon we will be offering a surplus of vegetables to share with all of you.
La, la, la, la . . . what a climb.
Robert Jones
The Bean-Stalk by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Ho, Giant! This is I!
I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky!
La,but it's lovely, up so high!
This is how I came,I put
Here my knee, there my foot,
Up and up, from shoot to shoot
And the blessed bean-stalk thinning
Like the mischief all the time,
Till it took me rocking, spinning,
In a dizzy, sunny circle,
Making angles with the root,
Far and out above the cackle
Of the city I was born in,
Till the little dirty city
In the light so sheer and sunny
Shone as dazzling bright and pretty
As the money that you find
In a dream of finding money
What a wind! What a morning!
Till the tiny, shiny city,
When I shot a glance below,
Shaken with a giddy laughter,
Sick and blissfully afraid,
Was a dew-drop on a blade,
And a pair of moments after
Was the whirling guess I made,
And the wind was like a whip
Cracking past my icy ears,
And my hair stood out behind,
And my eyes were full of tears,
Wide-open and cold,
More tears than they could hold,
The wind was blowing so,
And my teeth were in a row,
Dry and grinning,
And I felt my foot slip,
And I scratched the wind and whined,
And I clutched the stalk and jabbered,
With my eyes shut blind,
What a wind! What a wind!
Your broad sky, Giant,
Is the shelf of a cupboard;
I make bean-stalks, I'm
A builder, like yourself,
But bean-stalks is my trade,
I couldn't make a shelf,
Don't know how they're made,
Now, a bean-stalk is more pliant
La, what a climb!