Something Grows

Today, I was weeding my garden in the rain (as one does) in an attempt to clear out the refuse accumulated during the winter months, as well as the skeletal and morbid remains of the previous growing season (mostly corn stalks, a few blackened beans, and bamboo).

I have been told by most gardening experts lurking on the interweb that, each year, plants must be replanted from scratch every year, or at least that is the case if you live in Canada and the temperatures regularly drop below the freezing point. Which seems fair enough to me - gardening yields delicious things, delicious things are valuable, and valuable things are never produced very easily.

I haven't been in my garden for months - it sits, neglected, and reminds me that I used to be an outdoorsy person, or at least more outdoorsy than I am today, or perhaps just the sort of person who would occasionally spend an hour outside. During the winter months of perpetual rain and doom, this is difficult, and like most Vancouverites, I enter a state that is somewhere between "catatonic" and "emotionally dead."

This changed when, two days ago, the sun came out, prompting the people of Vancouver to dance in the streets and be merry. I came home during my lunch break to play with my frolicking band of puppies, and found myself sitting in a patch of sun, warm, happy, and plucking away at dandelions (who I think of as my hive-brained arch-nemesis). This led to a bout of full-blown weeding and, within twenty-four hours, I was composting, clearing, and planting absolutely everything I could, including a Meyer lemon seed which I'm praying will grow into a replacement of my dearly deceased lemon tree, Cecil. (I will name the new tree "Cecily," in his honor.)

Today, it was cold and rainy again, and so gardening was not especially fun. But I made a discovery which confuses me: my carrots, apparently, never stopped growing. The ground of my garden is crowded with babies in certain areas, and in others, a lone, behemoth carrot looms. Some are rotten, some are soft, but for the most part they seem crunchy and enthusiastically orange. So...what happened here?

I'm a bit concerned - these carrots have turned ferral. They were once employed to serve humanity, and now they have discovered that they are self sufficient; no longer servile and weak, they are independent and  strong. How long before they realize that I am the enemy - and how long before they seek their revenge?

Note to self: Do not trust the carrots. Compost at earliest convenience.

Good day.