Like, as in, these weeds:
We promised ourselves we'd get to the onions earlier this year, that we would not let them get out of hand like they did last year.
See, the trick is to get in early, when the weeds are small. But, you can't go too early or you won't know what's weed and what's onion. So, there's a window. And, although we did better than last year, we still sort of missed it.
So, every Wednesday, I've been working a few hours on the two onion beds we have left to tackle. It can feels like hours in there, in the jungle of lambsquarter and thistle (youch!), mallow and mustard, before you find a bulb worth saving. But just when you think your hunting is for naught, lo, a mighty onion bursting from the mat of noxiousness.
As my husband often says: "We don't give plants enough credit sometimes."
In the middle of winter, I want nothing more than these days. Long, hot, breezy summer days, filled with the bounty of a July garden.
But it seems that by the time those days are here, we're so caught up in the weeding and planting and harvesting and living -- that we forget to look up remember why we longed for a July day in the first place.
If your head is stuck in the weeds, you might just miss out on the wonder that is a garden in the summer.
You can miss out on things like winter squash, sending out flowers as if to trumpet: Bum, bum, bum, bum! Attention! Attention! You Will Have Squash Ravioli This Fall! I Say! You Will!
Or, if you're not careful, you might miss out on seeing the beginnings of a pantry filled with zucchini, of all shapes and sizes.
(Here is my favorite, the Magda. Or, as my grandmother calls it, Cousa. It's a Lebanese variety and my Grandma says until we started growing it, she hadn't eaten it since she was a kid.)
Or, you might not see just how beautiful strong perennial roots can be.
Or, my Goodness, you might not see just how far you've come in a few short months.