Just three steps from my back door lies a 4x8 patch where lettuce, leeks, green beans, zucchini, tomatoes, and some herbs grow. I also sowed seeds for spinach and kale, now obscured by grass. Despite my best efforts, the grass laughs at the eviction notices and keeps coming back. Through some gift of grace, the intended vegetables still bear resemblance to the thumbnail photos on stakes that provide information on thier cultivation.
No, I'm not a gardener. My grandma, however, was. In her 97 years, I had the distinction of being the only person she'd ever known who'd killed an aloe plant. I did not get her green thumb. Her cooking ability, yes. But not the gardening skills.
But, at the urgings of The Spouse, I tried again. This past cold, windy Memorial Day, he tilled the patch. I dug small holes and inserted seedlings, careful to make sure that the green side was up. I held up my hands, blessed them with a wish to grow, and watered well. So far, we've enjoyed a few salads, have a green pepper for posterity, and wait for the tomatoes to ripen to the colors of a summer sunset.
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