Over the past twelve years, I have been trying my hand at gardening. My mother had a green thumb, and my brother definitely has two green thumbs; he can grow anything from Jerusalem artichokes to Asian pears. Me? Nada. But I’m still trying.
When we moved in, the backyard was a beautiful lush forest of over-grown lavender, butterfly bushes and grasses – the colorful, spiky kind called Mother-in-Law’s tongue. Our first night, we were welcomed by a resident of said garden – a very large rattlesnake. Hence, I stripped the backyard of all hiding places so our grandchildren could explore without finding some sneaky snake in the grass.
We put in neat boxes for growing vegetables, each fitted with screen underneath to prevent the other residents (gophers!) from nibbling. We filled the boxes with good soil and I planted – enthusiastically. That first attempt brought forth an abundance of (10-12) brussel sprouts.
Since then, I have tried to grow other vegetables without any luck. I have attempted to grow flowers and a few have sprouted, but not many have blossomed. Or, if they did, not long enough to notice and enjoy.
Recently, we had a few branches removed from our two oak trees. More sunlight now streams down on the apricot tree we planted two years ago and the three (still empty) garden boxes intended for growing delicious organic vegetables. I added more amendments, turned and mixed the soil, and planted broccoli, cauliflower and what I thought were brussel sprouts, but may be collard greens.
If my luck holds, we may get a couple of meals of veggies sometime this winter. Of course, the head of broccoli and cauliflower I dream about may only have cost us a couple hundred dollars (for each floret).
If nothing happens, I’ll plant flagstones in spring.