By nature I am not a Gardener. Although I often get spring fever and dream of having amazing flower and vegetable gardens, execution is not my strong suit. This spring is different. Way back in February, when a pandemic was just a remote possibility, I bought 100 packets of seeds to be used as wedding favors for my son’s wedding in June.
Well, we’re not sure if the reception will take place, and if it does, I can get more seeds. For now, I am growing a farm. Being me, I decided to start this project without any of what I would normally think of as supplies. I had no pots, no potting soil, not even a trowel. I did have orange juice cartons, milk jugs, peanut cans, and baby food jars saved for twenty years for just such an occasion. ( Actually, I have no idea why I saved the baby food jars.)
I took soil from the old window boxes I hadn’t emptied out last year and put dirt in everything I thought could fill in as a pot. Now I have seeds in every sunny windowsill in the house. The lettuce, spinach and peas I have planted outside, and so far everything is thriving. My 35 tomato plants are up, my 1,000 leak seeds have sprouted, the peppers are, so far, a no-show, but the water melons have sprouted.
Yesterday, I surveyed my tiny yard. This is going to be a problem. Even if I dig up every square inch, there won’t be enough room for all these vegetables and flowers to thrive, and I have no intention of digging up the whole yard even with Parker’s help.
No problem… I can put a table out in front of the house when the plants are ready with a big “free” sign. If people can overlook the strange assortment of planters, they can enjoy the fruit of my growing fever. I just hope I can keep them alive until then.