spring evening

When I got home today I decided it was okay to plant sweet peas--I hope it will stay cool for a while, since they like cool weather. I put them in the raised bed by the driveway. I'd do better, of course, if I started them in February and had sturdy seedlings to put out in April, but usually I just wait and direct-sow. Today I was thinking about how full of tree roots the bed is and how there's a layer of wood chips on the top and I don't always plant them right, and thought, Gee, I ought to put the seeds in peat pots and plant the pots. I didn't have peat pots, but I folded a bunch of newspaper cups, filled them with potting soil, and planted 3 seeds in each, then planted the cups. The idea is that the sweet peas can start without having to compete with the tree roots, and the newspaper will eventually decompose. That's the idea, anyway. We'll see how it works. It's supposed to rain tonight, so I didn't water them.

Yesterday I found some patching mix--grass seed, mulch, and fertilizer all mixed together in one bag--left over from I don't know when. I don't know if the grass seed is still viable, but I threw it around the side yard (where the dogs don't grow). I watered it yesterday, but haven't today because of the predicted rain. They're saying "locally heavy," and I hope that passes us by--I just want enough to give everything that needs it a good drink.

I still have nasturtiums and morning glories to plant. The nasturtiums will go into the garage bed with the Asiatic lilies, the idea being that they'll trail out over the edges of the dark green bed like bright jewels, and I think I'll put morning glories alternately with the sweet peas--morning glories often have a little more oomph than sweet peas and hopefully they'll last through the summer, after the sweet peas get too hot and give it up.

I really ought to get the garage painted this year if I can, and if I can find the right shade of greyed, faded blue-lavender, so the Asiatic lilies will show up better than they do against the white wall. Or move this batch of lilies and plant some vivid red, orange, gold, and yellow ones. I'm going to have to see what the new sun pattern is. Maybe I can have another go at a yellow climbing rose==maybe Golden Showers. There was enough sun with one tree down last year that the hosta burned up and the astilbe totally vanished, and there'll be more sun this year with the top of the other tree down, so I've got a garden to re-imagine. I'm thinking bright flame colors, red, orange, and yellows, with a lot of green to anchor it. Though that in turn means moving my mourning angel to a more appropriate spot. I've decided I'd like to have her surrounded with European ginger, dark heuchera (Plum Pudding, for instance), with white astilbe at the back. The question is *where* to put it? And I wonder how the gallium is going to react to the extra sun? Doesn't it figure, I just get the place set up for shade and two trees fall down and let the sunshine in.

Then I came in and cuddled Timber, my sweet boy, and then for dinner made this spring/summer pasta dish:

pasta, your choice of shapes (I like rotini) - as much as you'll need, cooked al dente
after the pasta is cooked, drain and add:
shredded Parmesan
solid white tuna in water (drained)
sliced black olives (drained) (nicoise olives if you can find them)
a couple of spoonfuls of commercial pesto, to taste
canned tomatoes, drained--I like Italian-style flavored with garlic and basil when I can find them, but tonight I used plain diced tomatoes and counted on the pesto for the garlic and basil flavors.

The heat of the pasta will heat the other ingredients, although you can return it to the stove and give it a quick re-heating. Store left-overs in the fridge and eat as a cold pasta salad for lunch tomorrow. It's a very colorful dish, filling and fresh-tasting (although if you had tomatoes and basil from the backyard, it would taste even fresher!). To make it more of a nicoise dish you could also add small pieces of cooked green beans, capers, and hard-boiled eggs, but I usually don't.

Now I can work on my spring lace sock and watch Richard Lester's 1973 Three Musketeers in memory of Charlton Heston, and one of my very favorite movies ever.