Gardening Adventure

I am not a gardener. As I've marched into my mid-30's, I've definitely grown in my appreciation and enjoyment of puttering in my yard. I've learned to mow the grass and weeding isn't quite so overwhelming. But I've never had a flower or vegetable garden. I kill plants. While not as bad as some, I'm of the mindset that plants should just survive without much care on my part.

My brother on the other hand is amazing with plants. He can smell if my compost is good. He can identify a tomato disease by description! The man has a True green thumb. [Pun intended]

This is why it is borderline folly that I have a garden and he does not- in the traditional sense. I believe his basement of lamps and basil is doing well.

We are doing this impart to teach the girls where food comes from, how to grow things and to hopefully improve our (mine and David) skills at tending things. We have herbs- rosemary, cilantro, lavender, oregano, basil, thyme; sweet potatoes (this will likely fail); zucchini; tomatoes; and cucumbers.

Ambitious. Wish us luck.



A neighbor of mine in the village
    Likes to tell how one spring
When she was a girl on the farm, she did
    A childlike thing.

One day she asked her father
    To give her a garden plot
To plant and tend and reap herself,
    And he said, “Why not?”

In casting about for a corner
    He thought of an idle bit
Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood,
    And he said, “Just it.”

And he said, “That ought to make you
    An ideal one-girl farm,
And give you a chance to put some strength
    On your slim-jim arm.”

It was not enough of a garden,
    Her father said, to plough;
So she had to work it all by hand,
    But she don’t mind now.

She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow
    Along a stretch of road;
But she always ran away and left
    Her not-nice load.

And hid from anyone passing.
    And then she begged the seed.
She says she thinks she planted one
    Of all things but weed.

A hill each of potatoes,
    Radishes, lettuce, peas,
Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn,
    And even fruit trees

And yes, she has long mistrusted
    That a cider apple tree
In bearing there to-day is hers,
    Or at least may be.

Her crop was a miscellany
    When all was said and done,
A little bit of everything,
    A great deal of none.

Now when she sees in the village
    How village things go,
Just when it seems to come in right,
    She says, “I know!

It’s as when I was a farmer——”
    Oh, never by way of advice!
And she never sins by telling the tale
    To the same person twice.


by Robert Frost  (from Mountain Interval, 1920)

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