Summer In March

I sit in my van, watching thunderheads rise to the west and the northeast over minor mountains, venti ice coffee in the holder, bottle of water at my side.

I broke a sweat today, felt the burn of the sun on my neck as I pulled the smallest of weeds and sprouts of grass from each garlic bed. All the garlic and shallots are up and growing. Half the straw mulch had blown to other gullies and beds. I replaced it as it appears to keep the soil cooler and moist on these hot March days. It will be in the 80s later in the week. No rain in sight but for these steaming vents blowing up over the mountains.

I applied corn gluten meal to rows both empty of straw and full of it. Seems to make no difference to its application. I am at the right time with it -warming, dry days ahead, early spring, just as the weeds begin to sprout. And garlic enjoys a spring hit of nitrogen that corn protein has in spades.

I received a speeding ticket on my way up to the farm this morning. Not a soul on the Taconic Parkway, I was lost in thought, and didn't even see the cop who pulled out in front of me, forcing me toward the shoulder. He asked why I was speeding and I said I was not aware if it. I was dreaming as one can do on a lonely highway. I hope it's not one of those 300 dollar fines. Twenty five years of driving and never a speeding ticket. Until now. I'll take the Thruway back because 70 is apparently okay west of the Hudson River.