The garden is finally in!

I don’t remember a year when I’ve been so late with planting my garden, which is far larger (and getting bigger all the time) than I can reasonably expect to keep up with. But as I look around to neighboring gardens, I’ve found that I am far from alone.

A soggy month of May has made our garden plots unfriendly to tiny seeds.

And for me, an unexpected bout with pneumonia slowed me down even more. But now, as of last weekend, everything is in, including all the herbs, pumpkins and winter and summer squash, tomatoes, a few flowers and everything else.

As a guy in the local Farmer’s Union told me as I was buying a few more seeds last week, that it will catch up with warm weather sure to come. And perhaps he’s right.

Usually, I have all but the most heat loving vegetables planted well before the end of May. And this year, I did manage to get three varieties of potatoes planted. Most in hills, some under straw. And every single one of the seed potatoes germinated. Many are more than a foot high, have been hilled twice, and will surely produce the most delectable tiny Red Norland potatoes for that July 4th potato salad. The potato bugs haven’t appeared yet, but they will soon and I’m ready for them.

I ran out of last year’s potatoes just a few weeks ago and was forced to buy some from the supermarket. As with every homegrown vegetable, the store-bought variety doesn’t measure up, even with our wonderful Maine potatoes.

This year’s garden has several new additions, thanks to spading what seems like tons of soil into piles. Five 8- by 4-foot raised beds, enclosed by sturdy old railroad ties that will likely last forever, contain a wonderful variety vegetables and herbs.

I did plant my salad bed in May, and now we are enjoying the freshest lettuce and baby spinach salads anyone could imagine. My husband and I always figure we get the costs for seeds and seedlings back in fresh, tender, salads alone (at least at restaurant prices). No iceberg here!

A second bed contains three kinds of basil, rosemary, cilantro, and two kinds of parsley.

The carrots in a third bed promise to be especially happy since they prefer fluffier soil. Sharing part of the space are onion sets, all with bright green and perky green tops.

Another contains more carrots, beets, and a row of dill for making garlic dill pickles. The fifth is an exercise in waiting. There, I’ve planted a new asparagus bed that won’t be ready for harvest for at least a year.

The three rows of garlic, which were planted in October, are planted at the far edge of the garden. Their green “leaves” are up to 2-feet tall, and some have developed the “curlicues” at the tips that show they will be ready for harvest come mid- to late-July, when the pumpkins, planted only a foot or so from them, will start sending out their vines and tendrils.

More pumpkins have a huge patch of their own outside of the main garden.

They are well-fed with goose and pigeon droppings, as is another patch of gourds of all sizes, colors and varieties about 20 feet away.

The rest of the garden is pretty traditional, with spots of trying new ways to grow traditional vegetables, such as trellising cucumbers and summer squash.

My rhubarb patch is spreading mightily and contains plenty for all the muffins, jams and pies I plan to make, as well as enough for friends and neighbors. My elderberry patch is spreading, too, so it won’t be many more years before I can pick all I need for jelly without wading through ditches on the sides of back roads.

As late as it is, I have faith that the garden will produce. Not like the summer of 2009 when mold and blight affected almost everything because of the constant chill and rain. I don’t dare hope for a year like last year when everything was planted early, just the right amount of rain fell, and blight was a thing of the past and every gardener I know got bumper crops of everything.

Whatever the coming weeks and months hold really doesn’t matter. I’ll sputter about too much or not enough rain, just like my gardening neighbors. I’ll complain about wildlife feasting on the vegetables, and I’ll fret about not having enough time to keep the garden weed- and pest-free. But despite all that, the joy of growing makes up for every problem that may rise.

Watching the seeds poke through the earth and marveling that such a tiny thing can become something beautiful and delicious never fails to amaze me.

More than the food that feeds my body, the joy of growing feeds my soul.