I never went to kindergarten. I don’t recall ever growing a bean seed in a paper cup at school. (We must have lived somewhere else when it was time for that!) We never had a garden when I was growing up. Somehow, though, I’m fascinated with seeds.
The magic is happening right now in my garden!
Tiny leaves on the grape vines. Muscadines. We had our first real crop last fall.
Chives I thought had died, back with gusto.
The scent of rosemary and thyme hanging in the air, still heavy with last night’s rain.
And, perhaps most hopeful of all, micro greens!
Itty, bitty collards and arugula and lettuces.
Radish leaves. So hard to resist pulling one up to see the mystery I dream of deep in the soil. Turnips, too.
Someone has been digging in the carrots! (Did you know you can eat the tops?)
I’m trying to learn from the permaculture gurus. It isn’t easy in raised beds which, to my neighbors, look a lot like horse troughs in the front yard!
All organic. Loose, rich, well-composted soil. Mixed plantings, very close. I’ll thin the tiny greens by using them in salads and soups, clipping them carefully so as not to disturb those that stay behind to grow bigger. Very specific plans for which will shade what as they grow. Soon it will be hot in Atlanta. If it doesn’t freeze!
No neat rows, all alike. They’re less susceptible to insects and fungus if you scatter them a bit. Pretty, too!
We’re not saving money yet, though it could happen this year. And the bronchitis doesn’t really help. I suspect part of it is genetic. I seem to have gotten the gardening and quilting genes on my dad’s side of the family.
Mostly, though, it’s about hope. Hope that we can save the planet. Hope for the bees and hummingbirds. Hope for clean food for my girls and all the children of the world.
The sun popped out just now. And hope grows!