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A Gardener's Diary...
My Girl Llama is really a boy and other gardening tales
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by Jules Harrell
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Summer really arrived for
me this year the day I found out that my lovely rescued llama, Babette,
is really a boy.
Yes, it's true. Dear rasta, wooly, spooky, loves-being-in-the-woods
Babby is really Bob, or Bobby, or Robert. Anyway, as my llama shearer
friend said that day, "She's a he." And so goes the garden. I am ready
to replant some peas already. The cukes are curling and we've been
eating strawberries and asparagus for months. Third planting of
lettuce, corn's a coming up, the rhubarb has been eaten and the comfrey
is on its second wind. The first cutting went to all my barnyard beasts
as they love comfrey. Then there are the apple trees, the grapes, the
blueberries, the kiwis. Do you have a beautiful garden? You can enjoy
only a few potted plants on your window sill or, like my great fellow
Co-op'er Chrys Ballerano, you can turn your entire front yard into an
amazing treasure trove of fruits, vegetables, herbs and flowers, right
smack in the middle of Albany, NY. Every time I visit Chrys I graze and
pick something to eat. Every time she visits me she scoops up some
llama poop. We have a trade happening.
I started out small, sprouting a few seeds on the windowsill, then the
urge escalated. Back in the days of my first outdoor garden here in
Cherry Plain, I knew literally nothing. No memories of farming with my
departed mom on acres of land returned to tell me that those weeds
weren't some kind of edible plant. The godmother next door came over
with her partner and just cackled when she saw what I had growing. They
tried to tell me but would I listen? My first garden here was a big bad
patch of giant thorny weeds by mid-summer. I was off kayaking and would
often invite Chrys, who said, "Sorry I can't come, I have to plant my
garden," and things like that. I couldn't imagine anyone would not go
kayaking and instead tend a garden. You can always grow stuff, right?
My first garden was a disaster, as was my second. By that time, I was
married to Jerome and he had little faith during the third summer
garden when he saw that I completely abandoned my little plots in favor
of whitewater kayaking. The next year, I got serious and started
hauling dirt from a local farmer, and building raised beds. Jerome
said, "Why do you want to expand?" which was a reasonable question.
Little did he suspect that all those memories of mom and her gardens
and uncles and their pigs in Arkansas had flooded my brain, making me
garden crazy. Fast forward to now.
We have over ¼-acre farmed, and my girl llama is really a boy. I
haven't seen any whitewater this summer, even though it's getting
really hot. We have zukes and cukes and lots of bugs. Is this better
than kayaking? After weeding all day and powdering bugs with
diatomaceous earth, I am starting to wonder.
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