It's all about the Garden

I'd like to think that we could safely call it summer now, if it were not for the fact that last night it dipped down into the 40's (again) and it is almost June for cryin' out loud... The last month or so has been all about the garden, or rather, the new garden plot. We found out the first week in May that we had finally come to the top of the list for a coveted spot in the community garden. I had always envied those lucky folks I'd see behind the fences, hoeing their rows, watering, harvesting and even sitting outside having dinner with wine as butterflies and birds flitted about in the late and mellow sun of summer evenings. My great aspiration this year, as I had assumed we would NOT have a plot again this year, was to buy a bunch of containers and potting soil and to grow many vegetables up on our deck. I had already invested pretty heavily in bags of soil and plastic pots, which were more expensive than I had anticipated, when we were informed of our good fortune.

Now, every morning, Teague and I walk out along the cool, concrete and brick corridors of our urban neighborhood, cross busy streets aflow with AM traffic, and unlock the gate to the community garden were we are blessedly transported into a different world. Not only is it great therapy for me, but it gives Teague an opportunity to run around in a relatively safe, concrete free zone, though, I have to note, not entirely free of concrete. In fact, despite that many people have farmed and eaten vegetables off of this large plot of land, I have some reservations about the quality of the soil. I took over a plot that appeared to have been largely neglected the previous year. It was massively overgrown with weeds, wickedly prickly bushes of unknown genus, and the strange detritus that drifts in from off the streets, including little crack baggies- or at least that's what I assume they are, because you sure couldn't fit a sandwich in one of those little things, not even a finger sandwich. As I cleared the plot (10'X20') and turned over the soil, I kept turning up what appears to be construction rubble. I've discovered pieces of eyeglasses, power cords, many bricks, concrete, and other enigmatic pieces of junk. Supposedly this garden was built on top of abandonded homes that were torn down and hauled off, though, obviously, not entirely.

Well, so far I've managed to mostly kill most of what I tried to plant. I grew seedlings in the big sunny kitchen window, and they looked pretty good. I even tried to "harden" them according to web-gardener recommendations, but maybe this spring has just been too tough.

I only have a little over two more months of taking care of Teague and being the at home Dad. I just don't know what I'm going to do when I have to give this up. I love being at home and watching Teague grow and learn. I love cooking our family healthy meals and taking care of the house and garden. As I write this I'm looking out the window at sunlight on brick, newly verdant trees along our street, and a fine breeze is coming through the office window. But I turn away and look reluctantly at that resume on the screen.