Getting Started

It all started in late March.  Elsbeth and I had spent weeks talking about what we would do with our backyard garden space.  But between our demanding 9-5's, and other extra-curriculars stealing spare time, it was easy to put off starting the seeds.  

As frosty nights broke to foggy mornings, we made our trek to the garden store for seed starting supplies.  Trays, potting soil, and a few cold weather veggies (broccoli, strawberries, and lettuce) were enough to inspire an afternoon tilling session.  Of course in the bleak muddy greyness of March, a few bright violet and lemon yellow pansies, paired with Spring's sun-worshiping sergeant at arms - bright yellow tulips, were the perfect addition to our front window box.

Kentucky Wonder garden beans, Sugar Daddy climbing peas, sweet basil, red bell peppers, and heirloom garden tomatoes all took their place in two-by-three planting starters, sharing their small spaces, two seeds per pocket.  After weeks of daily soaks and afternoons warming themselves in the sun, our seeds emerged one by one.  They reached their little hands, ever so slowly, out of the pockets and into the world.  

And in those first few days I experienced a little miracle of nature of what can come from a tiny speck of a seed with a little bit of water and the warmth of the sun.  Every day I rushed home from work to watch them grow and stare, as any adoring mother would, as their little leaves pressed up and out of their little soil beds. 

Our next round of garden work was more intense.  On a particularly sunny and warm Friday afternoon in April, I found myself at mid-day already into overtime and itching for a boost in serotonin.  An afternoon of sun is a much needed compliment to a winter of fluorescent office lights and hours in front of a computer screen.  So off to the garden I went, digging up clumps of grass to make room in our front yard for some decorative broccoli and strawberry plants.  Next came the bean transplants along the front fenceline, and some flowers to break up the small plot. 

  

(( lettuce ))

It seems as though the more time I spend in the garden, the more it consumes me.  I have dreams of running away to my own self-sustaining farm, where honeysuckle grows on an old barn and my only neighbors sing every morning and evening.  But then I wake up, walk the dogs, and thoroughly appreciate my morning coffee, the 12 emails in my inbox, never-ending task lists, and organizing my 'priorities' for the day.  There is something to be said for grumpy Monday mornings and the few reliable coworkers that can always greet you with a smile.