The Daily: 6 May 2024

---

We have passed May Day. In traditional northern cultures this is summer. Tomorrow, the Greenleaf Moon goes dark. The Flower Moon will be a new crescent on Wednesday. The year is rolling on. But, though the days are over fourteen hours long, here in Vermont we are just now enjoying spring. We’ve had two solid weeks of temperatures above 40°F and have flirted heavily with 70°F. Now, there could still be frost — last year we had snow and a hard freeze on May 17th — but the weather is much warmer this year; there’s not as much cold stored in rock and soil. So I suspect my furnace is finally unnecessary, though I am not quite brave enough to put away the winter insulation and open the windows.

I did finally clean out the last of the stored onions and garlic. These were stinking up the basement and sporting all sorts of pale contorted sprouts. I haven’t used the stored veg since planting the nightshades and turning on the heater and grow lights down there. I didn’t think it would be safe to eat, though the bulbs remained firm enough to dissuade me from tossing them. But in the last week, I began to notice an increase in smell each night after I came home from work. So it was time to give up all pretense of using the leftovers except as compost — which is where they all are now.

I have also finally planted the peas. I hope that this isn’t too late. I also hope that the fabric tenting will keep the groundhog from destroying the plants. But these hopes are not too solid. I think the Greenleaf Moon and the Flower Moon are just not good times for gardening in Vermont. If it’s not too cold, it’s too hot. The rodents are awake and on the rampage, but the green world is not feeding them yet. So they prey on whatever the silly humans have planted. The birds and bees are not yet numerous, because again the green world is not feeding them yet, so pollination is erratic — but the midges are thick. And rainfall is just completely unpredictable. Last May we had only three days of precipitation, one of them snow. This year, it has rained some every day since… well, I can’t remember. I know we saw the eclipse in early April, but it started drizzling again that night. Most of this precipitation has been light, hardly measurable in my rain gauge, and there have been winds almost as frequent as rains. So on balance, the there’s not been enough moisture to keep seedlings happy — and this is, I think, rather typical of this time of year. So March, April, and May are really not garden months — except for the weeding and the pruning and other maintenance tasks.

I think peas and cabbages do better in the fall. I will probably stubbornly stick to my spring planting habits, putting peas in the ground as soon as I can and starting cabbage in paper pots indoors. But I am not going to be concerned when that doesn’t work. Because I suspect most years it won’t, and it’s not the garden’s fault. It’s just me and my incongruous traditions. However, I will continue to rely on the cold frame for early spring veg. There aren’t many calories in that frame, but that’s what bread is for — and the nutrients in fresh leaves are sorely needed this time of year. Especially in the plague years…

Which is the other reason gardening in spring is not too productive for me recently. I seem to have a permanent COVID infection that flares up in the waning winter and doesn’t let go until it’s nice and warm and I can be more active outdoors. I think that is the crucial thing, getting outside and doing things to get the blood moving. All sorts of inflammatory issues melt away when I can go for walks every day. My rheumatoid arthritis is less painful. My allergies are not as debilitating. And there is a definite seasonal break from COVID, correlated to my body being able to exercise outdoors. I wish the exercise I get inside was sufficient, but it’s not. I can ride the stationary bike for an hour, keeping my heart rate up the whole time, and that feels good — but not great. Not as good as walking up the hill in fresh air. My inner fluffy bunny says this is because there is newly minted oxygen out there under the green leaves, but it might just be that I enjoy it more. Happiness is a fantastic tonic, after all.

But in April and May I’m still mostly housebound by the weather. And anyway there isn’t much of that oxygen exhalation from the trees yet. So I am sick. It’s very hard to garden when any exertion sends you into convulsive coughing fits. (Also it’s embarrassing… I feel like I have to apologize for polluting the neighborhood whenever someone gets too close…) It’s also very painful for days after trying to work through COVID. Everything is swollen and my chest is filled with crap. Not a rewarding experience.

So, I have planted peas, but I kept far more seed in reserve for the autumn. I know that throws off traditional dishes. Fresh peas and greens are not notably part of autumnal recipes. But that’s just how things are going to be. Time for new traditions, I suppose. And I can still have split pea soup in April and May since I make that with dried peas anyway.

In fact, I don’t eat peas fresh that much. I use them in salads and on jasmine rice. I will usually have at least one meal that features a giant bowl of shelled peas steamed with mint. And I like to snack on snow peas. But that’s about it. So I suppose that’s not a lot of tradition to change, nor is any of that necessarily tied to the spring.

Now, asparagus is still a spring thing, but that’s not a matter of planting. I don’t have to do anything except waddle out to the asparagus bed to break off a few stems. I do adore perennial food. If only more of the veg garden could be as simple. Unfortunately, in cold climates, we get rhubarb, woody and vining fruit plants, a few kinds of roots and herbs, and asparagus. In the spring woods there are also mushrooms, fiddleheads and ramps. And of course we have a gluttony of maple sugar. But asparagus is the easiest and also, I think, the flavor of spring — a bit bitter, a bit sweet, a bit of crunch and a bit of cream.

My asparagus is poking along this year. Sort of like me. But there may be shoots to eat before June. And then… it’s strawberry season!

---

©Elizabeth Anker 2024