humidity
Dear Ciara,
Humidity is knocking at my door. He has been for days, and I’ve mostly been ignoring him. But no—I can’t ignore him any longer. At some point I will have to let him in. It may as well be today. So, with all my strength, I drag the glass open and wave for him to come in. In one swift movement he comes flooding through the door, sweeps and swirls across my vinyl floor, and fills up every room with his intensity. He’s parasitic too, gripping at my skin and attempting to drag me down to his level. I wipe the sweat from my brow, haul him off, and then reach for the AC. For the first time in months, I turn it on. The humidity screams that I’ve betrayed him, before dissolving from the air.
Despite taking the time to water my garden thoroughly each morning, I always return home from work to dehydrated plants. I need to invest in some LECA or something to help keep my pots hydrated throughout the day. My cat’s whiskers plant is the most dramatic. I often leave her in the morning, full and lush and happy, to then return to this wilted, skeletal thing. Fifteen minutes or so after I water her again, she bounces back to life, winks at me, and then the cycle begins again. It is a bit tiresome.
Two of my desert roses have thrown seed pods for the first time. I’ve never experienced this before, so I am beyond excited. They are strange cylindrical fleshy growths that I initially mistook for signs of some kind of disease. Thankfully, my colleague set me straight before I got too excited with my secateurs. The seeds also work like dandelions, so when I notice that the pods are beginning to dry, I will quickly wrap them in a small bag so they don’t disperse on the wind. I will then (eagerly) prune my desert roses back for they are getting too long and gangly for my liking.
My landlord has grown some gorgeous trumpet-shaped lilies this season, and feeling inspired, I purchased some bulbs of my own. They have all sprouted, big bushy leaves, but no flowers as of yet. I have a feeling they aren’t going to flower, mostly because I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never grown lilies before. Who knows if I’m doing it right?
The back garden bed produced over 70+ tomatoes this season, but those plants have long since died back and the bed has been overtaken by sweet potato vine. I will need to dig out the bed before the rains begin, that way I can see how many (if any) sweet potatoes I’ve grown. The Organist and I joke that despite all the lush growth on top, there probably isn’t a single potato beneath the soil. Oh well, only time (and effort) will tell. I’ll keep you updated.
Emmylou — First Aid Kit
The perfect song for a humid day.
Love,
The Gardener