Gardens

Every year I try and have a garden.  I remember when we lived out east in a little apartment and I started seeds indoors and tried to get them to grow, without really any success.  The next year I used a plot of land in someone else's garden, and still no success.  The year after that I had my own garden space and I think I grew a few leaves - I'm really not sure what went wrong.

I was so excited when we moved here because finally I might have a real garden, and by real I mean one that grew actual food.  I even bought raised planters and dirt this time, and I planted my seeds, and while we have gotten food out of it, not to any great extent.  Last night Clara and I went out and picked our pea crop, which was sad, and I pulled up all of the spinach because it's been going to seed for a while now.  I haven't tried to harvest any lettuce but it is growing and will make one big salad sometime soon.  And there are a few beets and carrots, I hope.

My beans appear to be getting eaten by something and the tomatoes are not happening, but I'm excited for the possibility of zucchini.

At this rate I'll be growing successful gardens after many years of not successful gardens, and that means about a decade from now.  Still, I'm encouraged that each year there appears to be slightly better results.  When I was a child I remember my parent's garden and they always seemed to have so much produce, especially tomatoes, I suppose I just thought that that happened.  Now, of course, I'm wondering how anyone gets anything to grow.

Dawn is happening over to my right through the window, and it's lovely.  Time to go start the day.