This is me.
More or less.
Last year, 2013, we grew a front yard garden for two reasons really. The first is because we don’t have a backyard. The second is because our “house” is such a blight on the neighborhood, we thought maybe a garden would distract everyone from looking at it. (Our “house” is a garage. We’re gutting and rebuilding it, hopefully into something less embarrassing for our children). Some people were skeptical at first, especially when they thought the garden boxes we laid out in rows (built from recycled fencing we bought at ReStore) were open caskets. I don’t blame them. They looked creepy. But then the garden got crazy beautiful and the people here in Athens, OH put our little garden on the walking tour. The garden club took note. And then the rest of the world! We were famous! I mean, TEN WHOLE PEOPLE re-pinned the picture of our front yard garden! Mushroom compost, my friends. Mushroom compost. It’s magic.
Gardening’s in my blood. My great-great grandma–back in Meadow, Utah, used to haul water in buckets out to an iris garden she’d cleared and fenced in the middle of the alfalfa field. I’m not that committed–especially not by the beginning of August when the weeds have won and the tomato blight’s setting in–but I like moving plants around, watching for seedlings to pop from the dirt, picking berries fresh from the vine. Discovering new bugs that haunt my dreams.
Mostly, I just hope this year’s garden doesn’t suck. I guess we’ll see.