To plant or not to plant…
is the question of a fool,” says the song.
“Better not to stop and ask. Just take up your tool!”*
These garlic bulbs are from my friend’s garden, grown in the plot next to ours in the community patch. I gave her some of our garlic to plant in our first Chicago fall, 2011, brought from Slaterville. At the time I had nowhere to plant it. I’d carefully marked the varieties when I’d planted them, labeled the drying plants, and kept them separate even for the move. Then when there was no ground for them to go into, they just came into the kitchen, jumbled together. Soon after that, we found some of them a garden. There’s no telling if these bulbs are New York’s progeny, but I like to think so. And I need the memory. Learning about growing garlic, planting it, tending it, photographing it, cutting and eating scapes, and finally digging huge hard neck bulbs in late summer has brought me more joy than I can relate on a page.
Time to plant again.
*I’d tell you the artist, but can’t find it. Remembered from an African record heard lifetimes ago.