Since moving to the country, it struck me that it would be a great idea to plant a proper garden.
We could grow vegetables — a natural garden on our own soil, without chemicals or pesticides, or any of that other icky stuff.
I imagined tidy raised beds, plants marshalled row upon row, with cute little metal stakes to delineate the tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, carrots, and whatever other things people usually grow in vegetable gardens. Neat, orderly, perfect.
Our house in the city had beautiful gardens. Well tended flower beds, trees with “good bones”, a bumper crop of roses, and a raspberry bush that threatened each year to consume the entire back garden wall, and produced buckets of bright, sweet red berries. Of course, my input into those gardens consisted of, “Um…I don’t know. Put in something pretty that matches the other plants.” and “Oh, that? That’s the blue one. I haven’t got a clue what kind of plant it is.” Continue reading “Embracing Country Life — Adventures in Gardening”