The tall ships sailed in today but we chose not to go because of the weather. In the morning, it was actual rain, so I found it soothing to my garden and my heart. It wasn't the bleh rain of the winter months so I could handle it.
The garden is looking happy; not a 4th of July garden, but at least a summer garden. We may get something out of it yet. We're harvesting greens right now and I can't believe it, but the onions are thinking of flowering. Our poor little tomatoes! We did everything this year the local county exchange told use to do, using the bed against the warm wall of the house, the red bedding materials, the best starts we could find-- but nothing will flourish if you don't have sun.
One of my favorite books is Homestead Year, and during that summer a woman sets up a suburban homestead in the year Mt St Helen's really blew. They had a resulting cool, late growing year as well. It gives me a little hope. We even used her method this year for planting potatoes. (Lay em down, toss straw over top.)
The herb-rose garden is the one kicking my butt. It's the one that was in the worst shape when we got here-- it was formed to look bare as can be, with plenty of cedar bark mulch around a few lonely trees and bushes. Transforming that into a lush garden of herbs, roses and towering flowers has been more of a challenge than I thought it would present. But as of yesterday I got all the tall weeds out, now I have to go back and find a way to get rid of the hundreds of blackberry vine leads poking up through the landscaping tarp they used to originally lay the bed. Pulling blackberries here reminds me--every time-- of the biblical crown of thorns. They're vicious thorns, strong as and thinner than established rose canes, and they pierce every glove I have ever tried, including leather. It's a nasty job.
Tomorrow we have our 4th of July cookout and beach trek. I hope the weather holds because I am not going to be hiking down there in the rain. Eek!