Minding Gina’s Garden
Over in West Marin, Gina Smith perfects the garden on her sunny, south-facing, ‘convex’ (as in: no hollows) acreage. She has the help of a couple of curiously industrious unpaid helpers (see below) who quite literally will work for food.
Down below us in the house, a passel of boys have Happy Childhoods (=make lots of noise) while us ol’ mudhens toil away, loving every grubby-fingered minute.
Yesterday, we uprooted a dozen or more giant chard to lay in a new bed of rutabagas (yes, those bulbous things that Eastern europeans subsist on in winter), rocket and kale.
Margit shoved the overfilled wheelbarrow up the hill as I picked up the fallen umbrella-sized leaves, then we’d fling everything over the fence, where three goats stood expectantly.
I wasn’t successful putting the gold-stemmed chard under my sweater to make off with unnoticed, but Gina said it was OK to keep one as a souvenir.