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It rained all day. I spent the hours hunched resentfully over my computer, wishing I had real work—bread to bake, or deliveries to ride—anything more tangible than the sisyphusian and, I often think, meaningless tasks of sorting and responding to emails, checking the webstore, updating spreadsheets. In the evening, having spent a busy day doing nothing, I went out to the garden to weed. It was a stupid night to weed. The rain had stopped, the sky above me pale blue in the lowering light, but the soil was still wet and soft. Any plant pulled up and not immediately tossed into my basket, and from my basket onto the compost pile, would begin to reroot. By morning it would once more be growing cheerfully skyward. Ignoring this, I bent over the farthest bed and began to pull up cornfield poppies by the handful. I love these bright, prolific flowers and, planted once, they self-seed aggressively, as any self-respecting annual should. Sometimes I daydream about abandoning the fussy rows of vegetables, with all their pests and diseases and special needs, and letting the volunteer flowers take over, leaving the garden to the poppies and calendula already blanketing the beds, the borage, the red and orange sunflowers pushing up fat cotyledon, the nasturtiums and phacelia sprouting along the fence line, the swath of coriander growing across the bed where last fall we let it go to seed, the amaranth and tomatillos in the back corner. The chives would continue their forward march. The mint, which already makes regular stealth forays towards the lawn, would soon escape it’s brick walled prison and sprawl outward. Snow crocuses would creep in from the grass. The dandelions and bronze, fronding fennel would run riot. In the herb beds, the echinacea, well-rooted now, would grow on unperturbed, thrusting coneflowers towards the sky. The sorrel and rhubarb, too, would carry vigorously on. Only the Mediterranean herbs—thyme, lavender, the spindly sage—would perish, withering in the shade of the invaders. Even a garden of volunteers needs tending. Left to their own devices, the semi-domesticated annuals soon overcrowd each other, sprouting in spindly clumps that grow into spindly plants, leaves and flowers dwarfed by hunger. So I massacred poppies, even as I daydreamed. But, with visions of a wild and colorful garden blooming in my mind’s eye, I left the bodies lying where they fell. See you at market in a few hours. Sophie Owner | Baker  TODAY AT MARKET and (mostly) NEXT WEEK FOR PREORDER 10am – 3pm, 1100 Railroad Ave BREAD: Red & White ($7.50 / 720g) Mountain Rye ($7.50 / 750g) Vollkornbrot ($8 / 750g) Seedy Buckwheat ($8 / 420g) SWEETS: Gingersnap Cookies ($2.5 / ea) Chocolate Chip & Hazelnut Cookies ($2.5 / ea) Oat Scones ($4.50 / ea) Brown Butter Shortbread ($9 / half dz) Hazelnut Shortbread ($9 / half dz) Signups for the MAY BREAD SUBSCRIPITON are up. A loaf every Wednesday in May. Self-serve pickups in Birchwood, Columbia, Lettered Streets, South Hill, and Fairhaven. RED & WHITE subscription ($30) MOUNTAIN RYE subscription ($30) TOAST subscription (aka Baker's Choice) ($32) Next WEDNESDAY PICKUP: Self-serve pickups in Birchwood, Columbia, Lettered Streets, South Hill, and Fairhaven. Address and directions with your pickup reminder email Wednesday morning. Order by Sunday night. THIS WEEK'S BAKE: Red & White Mountain Rye Toast: Oat & Honey Sweets: BITTERSWEET CHOCOLATE COOKIES! Comments are closed.
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