Over the past two weeks, in between Garret getting back into the swing of a new semester, and me going on a staff retreat, I planted a fall garden. It was perfect timing to plant some of what I planted, and not-so perfect timing for others. And, I’m hoping our neighborhood bunnies don’t think I just gave them a free buffet. (Chicken-wire coming soon.)
My parents are fantastic gardeners, and I want to be able to grow things like they can. I distinctly remember planting onions and potatoes with my dad when I was little. He taught me to take one of my stubby fingers, make a hole in the damp soil just big enough, place in the onion transplant, and then press the dirt in around it with the flats of my fingers.
So, when we moved to this new place, I was so, so excited about the raised beds in the backyard. (Thanks for building those, Mike and Kim!) My heart has been pulling lately towards doing things on purpose, towards dwelling less on wishes and more on action, so I got to it last week, complete with mosquito bites, sore muscles, and frankly, a lot of fun alone time!
See, I want to watch TV less and move more. I want to grow big things from small things. I want to work outside well into dusk and have dirty fingernails and messy hair. I want to grow little tobasco peppers and bottle them. I want to add some color to our little rent house’s front yard. I want to call up my parents and my sister and get their wise garden advice.
So, I planted a fall garden, even though it may not be perfect.