Cilantro Forest

The cilantro has  sprouted into an ant sized orchard of green, inch high sprigs.  Luckily I sowed the seeds in neat little rows so that they would not be mistaken for weeds. The nursery purchased plants are faring 1 for 2,  half of the stock expiring. Currently one of the nursery cilantro plants if whiteling itself away in a retrograde shrinkage and will soon be mistaken for an outlier of the seedlings.

My thyme seeds never survived the flooding of the thornless black berry  bushes, they were washed away in the the cavernous holes surrounding the bushes. The blackberries themselves I am uncertain of what their problem is, they are shriveled with bits of greenery.  I suspect over-watering so I am letting them dry out, though I’m sure they will become mummies before the month is out.  They sit in a planter with some recovering onions which I relocated for the glass where they rooted on the kitchen counter fermenting in cloudy water and emitting a stink that I thought was my husband with his sniper farts.

The marigolds are observing  the 1 out of two survival rate. Oddly it is the pale yellow blooms that are floundering and their dried blossom heads look like composting broccoli.  The mint seeds never surfaced, so I bought some potted mint which I have already attacked for a salad.  My fear of great basil shortage of 2020 has gone unrealized both seeds and nursery plants have thrived though they have stingy little leaves.  The honey suckle is thriving, twisting into happy spirals on the nearby trellis. But the winner? The catnip plant:  as lush with water as a succulent. The irony? The cats don’t care for it.