Hello fellow readers, I recently returned from a respite in Virginia Beach. What a treat to enjoy summer weather and sunshine especially given our summer of wetness.
A glorious routine part of the day overlooked and perhaps taken for granted by the folks that live there.
Half a watermelon in plastic wrap was in the fridge, which I didn’t think would still be viable. But it was. When I purchased it from our local farm stand, it didn’t occur to me to ask if it was seedless because most commercially sold watermelons are these days.
We spoke last June about the Oxymoron of Watermelon and learned seedless watermelons aren’t truly seedless. Those little white thingies among the watery pink fruit are infertile seeds made by hybridizing two varieties of plants. True, they’re digestible, but so are traditional black seeds if you’re so inclined. However, our leftover watermelon was loaded with seeds which would make the eating experience overly gritty.
It took over a half-hour to deseed half a mini-melon. Likely because I was still on vacation-head, I found the process therapeutic. I marveled at the magic of the watermelons’ strategy to reproduce. Like many fruits, the abundance of seeds inside the fleshy yield are eaten by critters and then make their way out the other end still viable to sprout.
Haven’t we all tossed a pumpkin after it served as a decoration in our homes then found a volunteer pumpkin plant the following year? It seems magical to me. A miracle. Like the Virginia Beach sunrises of pink and orange skies over the rippled glass of the ocean with puffs of lacey tides. A glorious routine part of the day overlooked and perhaps taken for granted by the folks that live there.
Speaking of seeds, Joan of East Stroudsburg, PA, was intrigued by last week’s column on using leaf mold as mulch and my intention of mulching this fall after the perennials are dormant. She asked what about the dried seed heads knowing I’m a fan of keeping them standing. I’ll harvest the dried seed heads and place them in areas where I’d like to encourage volunteer new plants, inviting animals and birds to have their share too.
Upon our return from vacation, I’ll admit I was saddened to see the brown fallen leaves instead of colorful ones clinging to trees, though a drab fall is predicted due to the excess rains, as we talked about a few weeks back. But it, too, is part of the miracle of nature. The leaves will decompose and nourish the soil, fertilizing next year’s bounty to make more seeds. The cycle of life. Truly a miracle. Not to be taken for granted.
Garden Dilemmas? AskMaryStone@gmail.com (and your favorite Podcast App.)
