For the past few months I have been debating whether or not I want to start a vegetable garden. Last year I literally spent months mulching a large area in our backyard (and I might add the area farthest away from the driveway where the mulch had been dumped – over one hundred wheelbarrow loads, I kid you not!). I started some seeds, which would have been successful in any other house. But starting seeds is very difficult when you have a cat who loves to eat plants and will climb any height to get at the tasty green morsels mommy for some reason likes to put on top of dirt, which is not so tasty but good for tracking all over the house. Yes. That is my cat Zoe.
Anyway, with the house on the market I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through all the effort to buy plants and take care of them, especially the weeding part, when someone else would most likely get the harvest. But I kept looking at the plot and the weeds growing up,
and it felt like the land was telling me it wanted a purpose in life. Boy, do I know how that is, so I couldn’t deny it a purpose. So I picked up a few plants at the farmers market last Saturday: two different varieties of tomatoes, red bell pepper, green bell pepper, and cucumber. And planted them.
These are the peppers.
But the five little plants only took up about 1/6 of the space. Now I know they will get bigger, but I left them plenty of room to grow, and now I keep envisioning more plants as I lie in bed in the mornings. I want to grow beans and strawberries, lettuce, and carrots.
Last year with all the weeding a mulching, I think I didn’t experience the joy of gardening, just the hard sweat and unending toil of gardening. Plus, I only grew three types of plants. And summer squash gets old after about 3 days. This year I am striving for much more diversity. Part of me is hoping to be around for the harvest but if the people who buy our house get to also enjoy lots of veggies, I will have to be satisfied with it. I will be in Chicago after all. And that is better by far.