Saturday, April 21, 2007

Rhubarb saga

I was out in the garden today, planting bulbs, digging holes and then filling them back in, taking a pick-axe to a two-and-a-half-foot deep hole. My muscles nearly wept. Let's just say it has been a very lazy winter, and shovelling and pick-axing rocky, wet clay soil is both a strength and cardio exercise in one.

Perhaps some of you have tasted our rhubarb? Dad found the rhubarb growing in a field by the side of the road probably more than twenty years ago. He dug it up and brought it home (like many other plants in the yard), and there it has been growing for years. For information on this tangy treat, try the impressively thorough rhubarb compendium, or the (usual) wikipedia article. Our rhubarb is nearly three feet across, the main roots go over a foot deep, and who knows how deep the oldest roots descend. Probably into the underworld. This is a big plant. And I have to move it. Yep, in order to finish the boards for the raised vegetable beds, we have to move the rhubarb.

I'm not going to write much more about moving the gigantic rhubarb today. I have started documenting Rhubarb Osborne's travels, and maybe I will share them with you later (that is, if you would like to see big holes and plant crowns and root balls on tarps being dragged across the lawn). For now, I give you early spring rhubarb pictures. It's the goriest plant around.

Rhubarb uncoils

Seriously, lookit. It's, like, brains or something.

Spring rhubarb

Like gangrenous brains!

Okay, how about something a little more peaceful? I got a sprout from an old package of Sweet Marjoram seeds. If she lives, I shall call her Sweet Marjory. Because I am not original at all.

Sprout

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