Garlic Yield

We did the math.

One clove of planted garlic, yielded one bulb bearing 24 fresh cloves.

Unless we want our garden beds to be overtaken by garlic, only a portion of the harvested bulb’s cloves will go back in the ground to perpetuate the crop. We’ll share some cloves with other growers. And we even get to eat a few!

They may be small but they pack a potent pungency. Great flavor!

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

Hip hip hooray for short day garlic grown in the tropics!

And for anyone who read the recent “Why Not?” I’ll let you know that I spied a small seed tray with a wooden marker that read “Garlic Long Day” in the Bohemian’s neat print. He just can’t help himself from attempting the ‘impossible’. For those that did not read “Why Not?”, I’ll give you the why. “Garlic Long Day” does not grow in the tropics.

So don’t ask me what this means: As the Bohemian finishes planting our ‘short day’ cloves, all the while quietly humming what resembles a version of the “Happy Birthday” song to them, he suddenly gasps with glee.

I move to where he’s squatted and observe with my own eyes. The papaya tray has not yet sprouted. Neither have any of the kumquats. But that “Garlic Long Day” – sure enough – a small, green tendril is moving earth, curling up to stretch to sun.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

Should I Just Get a Flickr Account?

I think the Archives has turned into a photography blog.

And there is nothing wrong with photography blogs. I love photos. Obviously, as it appears that images, rather than words, seem to be the featured medium on the site, as of late.

I have my theories as to why the thread has woven toward static shots. A picture’s worth a thousand words!

With my mind so full of details and my heart so rich with love lessons, the simplicity of a photo of a flower brings me peace. Is intended to touch your day with a little bit of beauty. No words necessary.

Except that this is a writing blog. Here to chronicle the everyday details of life. Finding the profound in the mundane.

My initial concept for this site was to deny nothing. Allow for everything – no matter how apparently dull – to be the source of inspiration, somehow.

I fleshed out grocery trips to Costco, wrote about newspaper coupons, shoe shopping and broken washing machines. Little did I know I would get an epic love story with the Bohemian between domestic chores. And now, some semblance of a wedding in the Fall.

I’ve chanted the mantra throughout these four-hundred-and-thirty-some-odd posts “follow the thread”. And this thread has led me to find that some things are so intimate they are not yet ready for public sharing. Seeds germinate and take their time before coming to surface in the light. Butterflies metamorphose in their cocoons until they’re ready for flight.

And so the Secret Chronicles begin (I’m such a blab, I’m telling you about them anyway). They are mine for now. Taking a bit of my creative writing juice, these are the written archives of experiences still too close to share. Saved and stowed away. Until maybe one day…

In the meantime, the Archives may have days where words fall short. Photos reign supreme. Or maybe tomorrow it will all be different.

Who knows? We’re all on this wild life journey with no map outlining the exact details of where we’ll travel. We each have a thread we follow.

Today my thread lead to the rose grown in Mary’s garden.

A thousand words.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

Growing Green

With the stormy weather of March behind us, these first few days of April have held the sunlight feel of summer. The Bohemian waters our newest garden bed, encouraging peppers, tomatoes, sunflowers and basil.Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

The seeds of our last planting have come to fruition with huge heads of lettuce and the thick ruffles of golden chard.Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

The backyard mango tree took a beating with last month’s wind and rains, losing most blossoms and any small fruits. This lone mango survived the storm and is hanging tough, oozing its sweet sap.Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

“Oh, yeah!” the Bohemian would say.

I agree.

Yes, we’re growing.