Alder's Grove

One of the first things I planted here – at House Thorn – were chives.

I got them off a freecycle or plantcycle (same idea), back in the days when those lists were doing well here in Ithaca.

(The concept of either is that you post “I have this thing I don’t need anymore” or “I have this thing I need, does anyone have it?”  I’ve used it to get: a scythe, cat litter buckets (Our cat litter comes in sort of cartons and I wanted to try cat litter bucket planters), air mattresses, a broken breadmaker… We’ve gotten rid of a safe, a burn barrel, a turtle sandbox…)

I also went and got the earliest-blooming crocuses that were available.

Of course, since we moved into the house in mid-September, we discovered the next Spring that the people who had owned the house before us had been of a similar mind – there are spring blooming bulbs all over this place, so it’s a riot of color from the first thaw through the end of day-lily season.

But CHIVES.

I hate March, I’m afraid.  Really dislike the month. (T was explaining why to a friend and he summarized it as “the color.”)  It’s grey and muddy! And it’s a tease; you want to plant but you can’t.

The last freeze date in our area is mid-May, just for reference.

But CHIVES.  Chives are food.  They are fresh and they really taste good only fresh. And when the snow is just starting to melt, when it’s just thinking about melting, then you have chives.

This little bit of green pops up in your garden (I have an “invasives” bed I’ve mentioned before, where I let various chives and mints duke it out. I tried oregano once and I ended up with hybridized mint-regano.) and it’s like All Is Not Lost.  Things Will Grow Again. Here, have some Food.

It’s amazing. Alliums are a gift and we should cherish them forever.

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Want more?

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Other Chive Posts:

Gardening! March 23, 2012

Life in the Country, Tuesday edition (Actually Monday edition, just really late). March 21, 2012

On Chives  April 9, 2014

Spring! Chives – May 16, 2013

Mirrored from Alder's Grove Fiction.

Drausus the warlord lived in an impenetrable fort on the top of an unclimbable cliff and ruled over his territory with an iron fist and a stone heart. Or, at least, he had.

Drausus commanded the farmers to grow enough for themselves and then enough for him, and those that did not, he put to work in the mines, pulling out steel and gold. Or, at least, he had.

He took his pick of the finest of the young people to warm his bed and keep him company and if they were lucky, when he was done with them he'd arrange a marriage with a member of his personal army. Or, at least, he had.

The woman, the hero, had climbed the unclimbable cliff, bypassed the well-bribed army, penetrated the impenetrable fort, and beaten the unbeatable warlord. She had done the first with tools he had never seen, the second with stealth he hadn't thought of, the third with a little bit of both - and the fourth, Drausus had to believe was witchcraft and dishonesty and nothing more. She couldn't have been that good at everything.
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