Returning to paradise, even after just one week away, means reconnecting with each and every plant that used to be a friend or at least an acquaintance but has become a sobbing stranger, left to its own devices in one of France’s earliest “canicules” ever. The day of my homecoming last Sunday was one of the first cooler days lately, though cool is not the word I would choose to describe a mere 34C.
On our way out we managed to give a lot of our plants shelter in Les Pierres’ veggie garden, our precious livelihood after all so firstly eligible for an automatic watering system that proved worth the investment even in its first year of use, granted that the wake up call its noise provided in the first night of my return did not make me half as happy.
My heart bleeds for all the young newly planted beauty that proved insufficiently protected from that immense heat, reducing them to rubble before the glory days I so extollingly assured them of, already animatedly envisioned in my head but paradoxically in paradise not all is meant to be, and who am I to disagree.
It’s obviously not all doom and gloom reigning over Les Pierres these days, as there are just as many succes stories that make up for the disappointments that all gardeners need guard against. Our roses have never before shown such abundance of flowers, the squashes and pumpkins demonstrate their appreciation for these extremes with considerable growth and the peas, oh, all these peas!
In the past we usually managed to harvest just enough green gold to make both our favorite dish, saffron pea risotto, but only just once, turning it into a bittersweet supper.
Observing the current pea-jungle at Les Pierres this seems to be a Tantalus torment well conquered. This year though our saffron supply might be the bottleneck, with no more connections to the local saffron farm we used to help out at and only a small amount of bulbs planted ourselves.
Oh well, sweet dreams were made with less.