Peitricia, Peitricia, How Does Your Garden Grow?

AWESOMELY! With a little help from my friends, of course.

Back it up a bit. The last time I had a for-real-dirt-in-the-ground-hit-the-greenhouse-for-more-than-one-little-flat-of-annuals-for-a-window-box was eleven years ago. I was just pregnant with The Boy, and without my knowing it at the time, it was my last summer at our duplex in Mitchell.

Being newly pregnant plus mommying a barely one-year-old was not the most conducive to gardening. So it was mostly wildflowers that year. And weeds (hey, it's God's carpet).

But I have lusted after a garden ever since then. Part of this is that I do love gardening. I love the feel of the smooth, dark earth; the shimmer of the unfurling leaves after a rain; the ever-reddening of the tomatoes on the vines. I love the connection I feel to my grandmothers, both of whom were avid gardeners. I love seeing the literal fruits of my labours, and at the same time love knowing that the biggest labour wasn't mine at all - it's like magic how it just comes up.

The other part of it is that I have long said I'm a perennial kind of girl, not an annual one. A garden is all about stability. You don't plant a garden when you've only signed a one-year lease (voice of experience talking there). It's too much effort to get it right to use it for only one year, plus if you move every August 1, you know that it'll be all planting and tending and no eating.

So the chance to put in my garden this last weekend was *way* more than just a love of fresh lettuce. It means that I can see myself staying here for awhile. How long, I don't know. But long enough that it's worth putting down some roots.

I love, love, love raised beds. They're so neat and tidy. And orderly. And easy to maintain. (Pretty much a technical writer's dream.) The Husband's parents are in the process of transforming their large garden into a dreamland of raised beds, so I jumped at their offer (well, her offer of his help) to put together some for me.

Here is a "before." Between the house and the driveway is a bit of an odd place to put a garden maybe. But we've got these *gorgeous* old oak trees - so gorgeous that they block sunlight from 90% of my backyard. So for tomatoes, I get inventive.

I got a big ol' pile of soil delivered and The Husband (bless his "I-hate-gardening-more-than-I-hate-projects" soul) hit up a friend with a truck to go pick up my lumber.

The driveway became a construction site.

Someone had a blast with every part of the garden creation. Someone else is 11.

Both of them had a fab time messing around in the dirt.

But the most fun was the planting. We made our lists and each of us planted the things we like best.

The Boy is doing a Three Sisters garden and decided he wanted some onions as well.

The Girl's got peas, dill, garlic, onions, and a spot left over to do a cantaloupe when we find one.

Here's the "after" to the "before." I've got tomatoes and peppers on the sunniest side of the house. 

And here's my not quite as sunny side, but still sunny enough that *something's* bound to come up.

I'm wildly excited about it all. Of course, I know that excitement does not equal success, so I'm still signed up for our CSA and plan to visit the local farmer's market as necessary. Because just because my boxes look awesome does not mean that my thumb is any less black.