Professor Pouncy Paws and I went into the backyard this morning to examine our gardening efforts. The sun was still thinking about peeking over the mountaintops, and an overnight rain storm did the watering for me.
As usual, The Professor examined only the catnip growing thick and tall in one of the pots, then rolled onto his back and morphed into a nip-induced goofball of fur. I took a quick look at the cucumber plants and discovered that the beer traps seem to be attracting most of the slugs away from the new leaves.
But the most remarkable thing happening out there right now is the pea vines. I planted heriloom peas back in April when the soil was still cool but not frozen. And despite the late snows and cold we had here in the northern Intermountain West, the little devils thrived.
I've never grown peas before and didn't know what to expect. Over the weekend, we noticed that little tendrils were shooting out from the ends of their stems and holding fast to whatever they could find -- mostly each other and the tops of the onions sprouting nearby. That wouldn't do, so I places some metal cages around them for climbing.
My spouse and I marveled at the speed with which these tendrils caught hold of the cages and held on for dear life. We are among those who -- despite witnessing the rapid, overnight growth of the butterfly bushes out the front and the pea vines out back -- consider plants to be a stationary, motionless sort of being. We are not alone. Many of people walk past plants as though they are merely nature's furniture.
But the peas really laid that assumption to rest today. Just for grins, I picked up one of the trailing tendrils and held it against the cage. And to my awe, the tendril curled around the cage as if grabbing hold with a green threadlike hand. This plant actually moved. I did it a couple more times just to make sure I wasn't crazy.
My friend the botanist is always talking of the marvels and wonders of plants. She often has assured me that plants do move at more than a glacial pace. And although I have never doubted her, I had not witnessed it myself until today.
My pea vines have little hands! It almost makes me sorry that I am going to eat their fruits. Maybe I should at least ask permission before I pick them.
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