May Memoir: Ca va? Stories from Rural Life in Southern France, Chapter 25: Late Spring Plantation

Welcome to May MEMOIR!

Day 26

For the entire month of May, I'll be sharing part of each chapter from my memoir, Ca va?  Stories from Rural Life in Southern France.

Our initial encounter with the bees ended up being a real problem.  Each time we stepped into the garden we were forced out, and our early spring plantation was completed over the course of two weeks in the weaning light after the sun had set, and after the bees returned to their hive.  We were concerned as to how we could complete planting the garden, let alone tend it to that summer.

Chapter 25: Late Spring Plantation

Throughout April and May, we venture into the garden time and again only to be chased out by angry bees.  Christophe surveys the hives from afar and notices one is particularly agitated.  Bees swarm around it in all directions creating a small, dense cloud and they create an impressionably level of noise.  The other hives appear healthy with a constant and calm flow of bees coming and going.  Not sure of what to do, we decide to consult Madame Gousse about our bee problem.

“Have you tried lighting a fire near the garden since they do not like the smell of smoke?”  Madame Gousse asks.

            Christophe mulls over the idea for a minute, “That sounds like a good idea.”

            “I hope it works”, replies Madame Gousse, “because I’ve got over 10 crates of plants ready for you”.

            That weekend, we get the plants Madame Gousse has prepared for us.  We pick up the crates and look at the small jungle growing in each of them.  The seeds she had so carefully spaced out so each had room to grow has developed into a box of overgrown vegetation.  Each plant is trying to push its way up for more sunlight and space; it looks like an elbow match between plants.  They need to be planted quickly so the roots don’t choke each other.

            Bringing the crates back home, we place them in front of the house and review our plan.  I reluctantly look towards the garden.  It’s been close to a month since I have not been in it in broad daylight and I am weary about our idea to smoke out the bees.  If it doesn’t work, we’ll be swarmed, and worse, will have to explain to Madame Gousse how we let 10 crates of her seedlings die because we couldn’t get them in the ground fast enough.  I don’t know which one stresses me more.

            “I’m going down to start the fire”, Christophe explains.  “Once it is light, I’ll wet it down so it smolders.  This way, we’ll get more smoke and it will last longer.  Then I’ll come back to get the crates with you.  Alright?”

            “Alright”, I reply as he makes his way through the gate and down the path.

Not too excited to start our project, I stand alone for a minute just looking around and then turn my attention to the plants at my feet.  After closer inspection, I can see the difference between certain varieties of tomato plants.  I might not be able to name what is what, but I began to notice subtle differences between them.  One variety has leaves that are rounded and more abundant; one has droopy leaves and look like they need water, even though the soil is adequately damp; and one has leaves with a sharp, firm form.  There are others too, but I focus on these and wonder if it is characteristic of the fruit they will produce.  Will the droopy leafed plants make bland tomatoes?  Will the ones with the sharp leave form make acidy tomatoes?  I begin to ponder this when Christophe comes around the corner;  from far off in the garden a smoke screen is seen inching its way around.

            “I think the smoke is going to work”, Christophe says.  “I was down there for close to 10 minutes and not a bee was in sight after I light the fire.”

            “That’s great”, I say lingering in my tomato leaf theory.  “Did you notice all the differences between just the tomato plants?  It’s fascinating.”

            “It is, but I can’t tell one variety from another by looking at them until, obviously, the fruit is formed.  Madame Gousse can.  I’m glad she wrote out what is what for us”, Christophe says picking up two crates.

            I grab two others and we head down to the garden.  I enter the garden apprehensively, but notice there is not a sound of a single insect.  The smoke has moved its way around the garden and has given it a somewhat eerie feeling.  It is daytime, but a thick fog hangs over the garden as if closing it off from the rest of the world.  We can only see 15 feet in front of us.