I'll Probably Go 4'x10' This Year

    The garden patch lies still and dormant under the ratty white blanket of snow.

We'll start shortly with chard, a hardy cold weather crop, in the pots by the back door. Then leaf lettuce and herbs. Then the holy grail of home gardening will take its rightful place:

     The tomato. Why we don't jump out windows during the winter. The real ones, not the pallid windshield-cracking denuded tennis balls that cause one to rethink objections to canned.
     The ones worthy of being savored with an optional sprinkling of salt. Tuck seedlings into fertilized ground and stand back except to water and pull weeds. We had them until mid-October last year, along with a glut of zucchini.
     Maybe we could get them to Thanksgiving this year.
  

The Farm Report

Well, looky here! I have four zucchini peeking out from among the leaves. I havested the fifth over the weekend. I had to, or register it with the sheriff's department as a dangerous weapon.
The three tomato plants have done well, too. Most of the globes still shine green as stoplights, but two of them blush red. Tiny green beans unfurl from their stems, and the leeks? I don't know what they're doing. I think they're ok. Perhaps some research is needed as to when we harvest them. Basil and sage have been quite cooperative.
I don't know what alchemy of organic fertilizer, cooler temperatures and benevolent forces have created this harvest, but I hope they know I'm grateful.

Confessions of an Inept Gardener

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.