In my past life ever place we lived (all 2 of them) I tried to have a garden. I didn’t want a huge garden, mainly because the itty bitty little apartment back “yard” space usually had little to no dirt and hardly any light. The generally consisted of a cement slab that you could put a barbecue or chairs on and then not get to use because your upstairs neighbors decided that your back patio was the perfect ash tray for their cigarette butts. Over the years I managed to at least sprout a few green bean seeds. Even when I’d buy already developed plants the generally died a swift Sacramento Summer death. One tomato plant actually even developed a little tomato, not that I actually liked to eat them, and we’ll ignore the fact that the baby tomato was actually already started when I bought the plant from Walmart. The last place we lived didn’t have any upstairs neighbors, it was a two story condo so we had the bedrooms upstairs, and kitchen and living room down stairs. The back yard did pretty good with mini roses, a Boston fern (which survived up until last summer), and I actually got cauliflower to grow – it died before there was anything worth harvesting, but hey, you could actually tell it was cauliflower. I even got a zucchini plant to bloom. I got no zucchini’s, but I did have their flowers. I got a kitchen herb kit that actually formed herbs, that was kinda cool, but they eventually died. I got mushrooms to grow in one of those grow your own mushroom kits and that grew when I remembered to spritz it with water. I think the mushrooms died then in my fridge, but things were kinda crazy at home then.
When I needed some therapy after leaving and moving home, I had no job. So, to break up the NCIS and Criminal Minds reruns, I’d help my parents out in the garden. When I worked with my dirt therapy I’d plug my ears in and listen to music on my mp3 player, or my phone. I’d spend my Saturday’s helping out at my maternal grandmother’s house, mainly pulling weeds or pruning. I did a good amount of raking (thank you giant pine tree). Grandma Darlene even told me that I could do whatever I wanted in the yard, it was my yard now, except goats. She veto’d goats. After both my grandmothers passed away in 2015, I moved into Grandma Darlene’s house and continued my dirt therapy. That year I somehow managed to get her Christmas Cacti to bloom. I haven’t got them to re-bloom since. I still don’t know what I did (or didn’t do as is often the case with them) to get them to bloom. The following summer Mom and Dad set up my garden space. Due to the over abundance of deer that like to sample things they usually don’t eat, a good 8ft+ fence was required if I wanted to grow anything for myself. I spent several hours out there digging weeds with my playlist ringing in my ears. One of my neighbors even commented that she hated to interrupt me because I looked so focused and zen in my destruction grass, puncture vine, and some succulent thing that is supposedly eatable. I told her it was just therapeutic, but she could interrupt me any time.
Every winter I get antsy with being stuck inside. I’d rather be outside pulling weeds, planting things, anything other than doing housework. Spring I start collecting more seeds that I probably don’t need because I never check my stash to see what I do or don’t need more of. Last year I actually started to use dot graphing paper for bullet journals to plot my vegetable garden lay out for the year. It helps that I picked a notebook that makes me smile.
Now each year the Raspberries get bigger because they spread on their own, and I take in unwanted runners from my mom’s patch. I do believe our raspberries are many years old in regards to where they started from one of my great grandmother’s garden’s. Some things wont be moving other than the raspberries, such as the raised bed that my dad made for me last year. I did help a little. My dad rocks making things with wood.
I planted my garlic and onions last year in October or November. I’m not sure exactly when because I know I got the bulbs way before I actually got them in the dirt. They are currently an experiment as well.
I have planted them in the box, in the dirt beside the box, in a cold frame in my back yard that I don’t have a current picture of, and in a pot in my cat yard (another awesome construct by my dad).
Nothing makes me feel more sane or accomplished when I put something in the dirt and it does more than decompose. I think part of it is because he who shall not be named (not Voldemort) hated getting his hands dirty. It was kind of irritating, but, I learned how to do basic mechanic work on our cars and our motorcycles. If something required getting dirty, I did it. I don’t think he realized how much I loved doing things with my hands. Maybe that’s why I managed to never lash out at him no matter how mean he was and how done I got, though he did have a habit of sneaking up on me while I was chopping things in the kitchen… luckily he had fast reflexes because I lash out with whatever I am holding when I’m spooked; glass of water, yarn, sharp knife… you get the picture. 🙂
I must confess that I believe I have an obsession with seeds….
Hopefully I will get something to grow as I have the last few years.