Spent some quality time in the west garden late this morning and early afternoon pulling Canada thistle (again). I’m keeping on top of them pretty well this year, and I hope to finally exhaust the roots and eliminate them completely by the end of this season.
I pulled about three seven-gallon buckets worth of mostly thistles and other weeds growing up along the western edge of the gardens and dumped them all on the compost, which has been cooking along with the heat and humidity. I turned the pile again yesterday and found no trace of the six baby bunnies I’d thrown in there–and no trace of anything burrowing in to get at them, either.
Started clipping the seedheads of the fourth-year row of green onions as well–they give a satisfying “plunk” when snipped–the sound magnified and echoing down the tubes of their stems. The weather kept going from rainy and breezy to sunny, still, and horribly hot and humid.
While picking the sugar snaps in the north central garden, I smelled that smell, and said to myself as I turned around looking, Geez, it smells like something died around here. Indeed, a western red garter snake had died–it somehow got its body stuck underneath a landscape staple and couldn’t get out. I don’t think it was the big one I posted images of a few days ago–it looked much smaller than her.
So, I was finishing up picking peas on the back of the trellis, and telling H, who was working on the weed whacker nearby, about the snake, when I heard a peculiar sound. It sounded like an audience clapping, and it kept getting louder.
“Is that rain?” I asked just before it started pouring. The sound of sheets of rain pouring down on a valley full of corn leaves has a sound remarkably like a standing ovation–getting louder as it approaches. I finished up the pea-picking getting completely drenched in our latest shower.
I’m considering re-thinking my nickname for this part of the state–instead of “The Southern Paradise of the Dakotas,” we might better be called, “The Southern Rainforest of the Dakotas.”