Waiting to Bloom: The Teenage Years

It seems like everything in my garden is in that awkward teenage phase. Jon comments that everything looks very green.  That's not a compliment, he notices the lack of color.  My mother-in-law begs to let her start pulling.  "But they're just about to bloom," I say to stop her. And they are, I visit my garden everyday, looking for change. The sunflowers look scraggly, exactly like my two teenage boys, waiting to bloom. Meanwhile, the nasturtiums I grew from seed have had to put up with being nibbled by rabbits, blown over and transplanted.  It is amazing that they are blooming at all, however late. They peek out shyly from behind their leaves, afraid to show themselves.

They are not the only ones hiding their "light". The grapes hang under the biggest branches, out of sight.  I have to continually check my beans and cucumber plants or their sneaky produce goes unnoticed.
The early bloomers are also growing through an awkward stage.  Their green is fading, their flowers spent, and they grow tall and spindly.  I allowed my greens and cilantro flower and it looked glorious last week. Now it has gone to seed and been broken down by the last heavy rain.  Not knowing quite what to do with them now, I let them be and watch them. Should I cut them back or prune them? Will they come back and be productive again? Or are they done and need pulling up, and throwing on the compost heap?

I have learned that I must prune. The grapevine is notorious for growing way beyond its capabilities and our property line. I try to train it back, but eventually I end up lopping off long branches that have taken hold of the nearby pine trees. I'm told it is for their own good.  The new willow I planted late showed signs of dying. I finally cut off the yellowing leaves and dead branches.  Now I see new growth. But I still don't know if it will survive the next winter.  Life is like that: somethings survive despite their hardships, other weaken and disappear.  I have very little control, despite my controlling behavior.  Really I am just watching and waiting.
As are the young hawks that are now way too big for their nest in our tallest tree. There are three of them, I think, and all 20 inches of them look ungainly and bored. They sit around our yard, uninterested in anything, but unwilling to fly away. I imagine the parents are busy feeding them, because they don't seem to be able to hunt for themselves. They sit amongst the squirrels and rabbits like they have crashed the party. I wonder how long this will go on, before the parents kick them out.... or they decide there is something better elsewhere. Will I miss them when they go?

In many ways summer is an awkward time.  Just ask my two sons who are home, but don't really live at home. They are simply waiting for the next stage of their lives to start: to continue a degree, to start a new job.  They have no real interest in being here but have nowhere else to go. Like my garden I let them do their own thing, but continually check on them, to supply what they need to bloom.  I clean up after them and feed them.  I listen to their plans. (I do not ask them what their plans are!) They are not a summer project like all those creative ideas we get during winter and can't wait till summer to complete. They just need time to decide when to branch out and time to thicken and ripen before they truly feel ready to be on their own.  I believe they are aware that this phase is coming to an end and that there will be a time when they no longer call this address their home. Like the hawks they are not quite reached it yet.

I have two geranium plants that I potted last summer.  On a whim I brought them inside over winter and kept them alive. They didn't flower or grow, but kept me company through the seasons' changes outside.  I was surprised to find one started blooming early and straining towards the window as if it was ready to be let out despite the snow on the ground. Now that it is outside, it looks all scraggly with tall slim blooms. Its partner has only started to bloom now, in late July. It is short and squat and bushy. Both had the same attention, water and sunlight, but they chose to bloom in different places and at different times.
I have three sons:

• one is a nasturtium; never in a too much of a hurry, beautiful, yet never self promoting, and whose seeds ensure he will not be forgotten.
• another is the early blooming geranium; eager to get going, productive, dependable and direct, always the first and tallest bloom in the garden.
• the youngest is the late bloomer; calm with deep roots, leafy branches that slowly explore his surroundings, and whose surprise bloom takes your breath away.