And the veggies... are in.

So, in keeping with local custom that Mother's Day is the date for safe planting... we planted. Oh, my Maude, we planted.

Here are the things we have one of: eggplant, jalapeno pepper, rosemary, peppermint, oregano (from last year), chives, and sage. Our luck with peppers was dismal last year, but Grace made a compelling argument that we needed one plant of jalapenos for salsa. We planted four basil plants (nice, healthy sweet basil; the other varieties are coming, or so the nursery claims. We saved some room for them.) The kids love pesto, so it makes sense to plant as much basil as possible, because pesto freezes well and then makes pasta and pizza and bread and fish so great during the winter. We also planted eight zucchini plants, on the grounds that they have such a reputation for ease of cultivation and abundant produce that surely something there will stick.

And, Lord help me, we put in thirty tomato plants. (Note to potential critics: this is a reduction of about 20% from last year, and no one complained when we brought them a few pounds of nice, fresh organic tomatoes. Ahem.) They have such alluring names: Early Girl (who doesn't like a girl who's early? I love puntuality!), Big Boy (appealing in a tomato!), Sweet 100 (that's an enticing promise, all right!) But it's the tomato-naming conventions that are referential to other tomatoes that really gets me: Golden Boy! Yellow Boy! Lemon Boy! And my favorite, Better Boy! We also got some heirloom varieties, including something called Marglobe and some called Pink Globe, and something utterly pragmatic called Patio. (Guess where you can grow that one?) I did the choosing myself, and apparently avoided any beefsteak, but there's always the chance that I'll sneak another one home. Our seedlings are looking puny, but we planted them anyway - they're all Sweeties.

We have a good amount of space left for carrots and the couple varieties of lettuce seeds I bought, and I think we'll resow nastertiums in the edges where nothing else is planted. A few of the bean plants we started in the kitchen are looking really good, and so I have some hope there. Grace was my Big Helper, and from the way she literally wallowed in well-rotted manure (no, it's not stinky, but it does have a certain texture that reminds one of what it used to be) made the day's work really cheerful. We spread manure and topsoil liberally, and watered well, and we're hoping for the best.

A few funny garden-related conversations: after a serious discussion about various basil varieties, the guy at the nursery offered to carry my plants to the car and asked which car was mine. In the midst of the busy check-out line, I said cheerfully, "It's the blue Subaru with the offensive bumper stickers." The line got noticably more quiet. When I was walking back to the car, the nursery guy stopped me to say that not only was he not offended, that I was a woman after his own heart. Gotta love closet liberals! And the second conversation was between me and a middle-aged guy at the hardware store. He was getting some keys cut and asked me as I picked out some tomato cages, "What are those?" I said, "Tomato cages." He looked at me blankly, obviously wondering why I needed to cage a plant. I said helpfully "Turns out they really are vines!" He looked skeptical and said politely, "Good luck with that!"

Finally, I had the occasion to say to my child, with all goodwill and sincerity, "You're a good manure spreader!" And she replied, "Thanks, Mommy!"

Pictures to follow.