Letting Go in July
A little musing, featuring Cucumbers, Hydrangeas and Salvia
Cucumbers
I cut the cucumber vines to the ground and pulled them off the trellis.
That used to be painful to do—killing something still growing, with fruit still on it—but I now recognize when something is past the point of deserving continued investment. Would that it were so simple in life as in the garden.
From a distance, they seem fine. But up close, some leaves were showing signs of powdery mildew. Each of the nearly ripe fruit had a worm inside it. I have three large jars of pickles in the fridge, and three more cucumbers yet to be eaten.
It was time.
I will plant more cucumber seeds in a week or so. I learned last year sowing a second crop in August produces plenty more cucumbers.
To make room for those new, healthy vines, I had to rip out these full grown vines, still producing but showing signs of problems. No longer worth the effort of maintaining.
Such is life.
Hydrangeas
Siena told me, as I was destroying on the aforementioned cucumbers, that she was going to go prune her garden.
When I checked in, she had chopped off 10-12 large white panicle hydrangea flowers from canes that had flopped over after the last storm, encroaching on her little plot.
I was mad.
But the truth is…
It was time for them, too.
The whole shrub was basically lying on its side. The flowers were too heavy for the 6 ft canes supporting them.
Somehow it was easier to let go of the cucumber vines, that I know I can easily replace, than to let go of those fluffy white flowers that I know I won’t see again until next year.
I was letting them lie in the dirt, creating the conditions for all kinds of problems, because I just didn’t want to let them go.
Breaking up is hard to do.
Salvia
The dark purple salvia I planted last spring championed herself the queen of flowers by lasting all the way through winter (including those super-cold stretches we had last year) and again through this spring.
But she’s looked haggard since summer began—brittle and brown, with some slight purple petals holding onto their former glory.
I made some half-hearted attempts to prune her back to little green flushes of leaves that were growing from this side or that.
But this week, July came reaping, and I finally said goodbye.
I have gaping holes in my border now, but were they really being “filled” by that undead salvia?
Hoping for more than can be expected is human-nature.
Embracing the cycles of sowing, pruning, and endings are a way of life for the gardener, but that doesn’t mean they always feel easy.