As a city-gal that keeps working at the fanny farmer angle, I can tell you, I suck at it. Year after year each attempt at a home garden has had its trials and tribulations. I bought my house from a woman who was pretty prolific at it. I figured I was set! Cheater, cheater Pumkin Eater! She gave me pointers to maintain what she already had on the land but still, I managed to kill it. I could tell she put a lot of time and resources into the plot in the back. Everything from a fenced in area for veggies to tonnage of rich soil piled on top of the sand and clay of Virginia’s swamp land. If it wasn’t my backyard neighbor hurling bags of dog-poo over the fence to salt the Earth, it was his invasive tree roots robbing the plants of nutrients. If I wasn’t battling with that, it was contractors coming in to remove fallen trees and jacking my top soil to be sold off. I’ve had many agricultural adversaries, everything from people, environmental conditions to pests (Bunnies are never pests!)
This year I was going to be more proactive, or so I thought. I followed the planting season recommendations this past Spring, I composted, sectioned off areas where I’d plant and use natural pesticides. Rain flooded out a lot of my plants that I started from seeds. What I could salvage I moved to containers. I even had a green house but it was taken down by gale force winds, ahhhh the pleasures of Virginia Beach. I did manage to keep a rather hearty Cherry Tomato plant going, well up until this week. I didn’t think it was going to bear fruit at all until I noticed yellow-flowers rather late in the season. I was skeptical but I kept an eye on it. The Farmer’s Almanac had suggested Dill and Marigolds to keep the Horned Tomato Worm at bay. That was working out great until the last plant finally died off in the hot summer sun, the weather here has turrets. Bam, immediately I was inundated with these little bastards. Best way to get rid of them and save what you’ve grown is to hand-pick them off. Still, latent larvae will hang out in the soil. The plant was top-heavy and even with stakes and a Tomato cage, thing toppled over. I picked as many as I thought would ripen to eat. The rest will most likely be eaten by the worms. Attack of the Killer Tomato Worms!
Satan is the poetry of the world and nature is its church.
That’s the tag-line for one of my Photo Albums. It’s like that. Maybe this gardening thing comes easy to some people, it never has been for me. I don’t know if I’m suffering fish-out-of-water syndrome or I’m just failing at life. It’s not like I don’t read up, take advice from locals or experiment with technique. I do that plenty. Each season I’m lucky if I can get some tomatoes and peppers to the finish line to harvest. I’m not frustrated, I’m just being pragmatic about the whole thing. Most of the time, I have a good laugh about it.
It’s the end of the Summer season so I’ve been clearing the yard of items that may get weathered or become projectiles during hurricane season. Upon posting some of these photos, the small table in the background became a point of focus. Is it an altar? No, really this one isn’t. I had gathered up some of the brass trays from outside and placed them on the table stand for my brass table. Add a couple of small faux bonzai apple trees, bam. Insta-altar, apparently. Here’s a photo of the set-up of the actual yard altar. It’s really an aesthetic and vanity thing for me. If I’m going to sit outside and enjoy the space, why not decorate? There’s always a mirror, if that gives you any clue. I’m a Narcissist, for fuck sake. I do light candles and incense but beyond that, I’m not entirely sure what people think this altar is for. Just one of many masks I wear I suppose. The stone-face I’ve made present there may bring that into perspective.
This morning I received a message on my website by a rather angry ‘Alchemist’, I should stop fucking around, stop pretending to do powerful magics! I’m nothing more than a poser and New Ager! Ok? Yet, whatever my photos present apparently led this person to believe I’m into the Supernatural. Tada! That’s magic isn’t it? I always find it amusing when people claim ownership of symbols and an aesthetic. Ok tough guy, go on and stop me from apprehension and use. Like this recent photo of my garage studio. I’ve cleaned it up a bit to make room for my new dance pole. Here I am popping off a shot of my pole and all people see is an altar. Never mind all my vending crap in the background, or my work bench where I make stuff. Nothing to see there. Just a typical Satanist and her meg-shift altar to summon demonz! Shit, maybe they can help me do some gardening, I should get right on that!
Meanwhile, back at the funny farm, James Jackson is experiencing a bit of head trauma. Me and my Satanic Brethren are plotting to take over the world. Muhahahaha, I have tomatoes, who’s bringing the beer?