If someone was to ask a younger me, would I ever garden, I would surely have said yes. But a garden of flowers, most likely.
And flower gardens I did have, even a simple pot on an apartment balcony. A home with hydrangeas, small, and barely blooming when the moving truck came. A new state, homes with nothing but backyard dirt. And a home with failed attempts at all desert plants. Oh flower gardens were in my plans. Yet, a garden of vegetables and fruits, no.
I believed that was something unobtainable. Something that needed skill and planning. Something, that required lots of land and a coffee table full of how to books (okay, so I have two books, no coffee table).
So, how I ever stumbled upon the gardens I now have, and wanting more, remains a mystery.
I have a 4×4 box and a 10×5 box, which I find myself walking around at least five times a day. As though I’m wandering acres on some farm in Texas. Veggies don’t grow that fast, but the way I snoop around the dirt you would think something new has grown every few hours.
Turns out when you have a garden germinating, you can and do lose yourself in it. It’s like watching a baby sleep, just wondering when it will wake.
There is peace among the dirt. Green sprouts appear as though Thomas Kinkade painted them. And when you get to taste what has grown it’s a rainbow of joy.
I just need more boxes now….