Come tooooo my gaaaarden . . .

Sorry, having a Secret Garden: The Musical moment. Ahem.

In an effort to rack up the number of plants I've killed in my life, I decided to try a garden again this year. I've got some good east-facing exposure and figured I could do some container plants. So I started seedlings and housed them on my dryer, where I nursed them with eye-droppers and bed-time stories and lullabies and found them babysitters for when I was out of town and every other thing.



Death toll: All the parsley, most of the basil, and all but 3 of the tomatoes (1 Early Girl and 2 Jelly Bean).

Turns out that "hardening off" does not mean "go stick your tomato babies outside for 18 hours on the first sunny hot day of the year." As I now know, this does not agree with them. Also tomatoes can get sunburned. Did you know this? And when they do get sunburned, it's much better if you can recognize this for what it is and get them back inside to recuperate, rather than shrugging your shoulders and leaving them out for another day of to-a-crisp-burning. See how I'm learning?

Planted sweet peas inside until a coworker told me you're supposed to just put them outside from the beginning. Thanks, coworker! My sweat peas thank you too:



Did y'all know how pretty sweat peas are? And how great they smell? Now instead of catching whiffs of Dumpster when I walk out my back door, I get to smell these fragrant little babies. It is a vast improvement.


After receiving my Mother's Day flower at church I got smart and Googled "How to not kill an innocent petunia." The Interwebs came through for me and look how great mine is doing!


The biggest thing happened once I thought I was done. Was chatting with an upstairs neighbor about the disgusting state of the landscaping around our complex. I mentioned that if I were here next summer I might think about digging out the small area on the back side of the building that is currently growing rocks and hip-height weeds and turning it into a garden.

Neighbor: That's a good idea! We'd need to ask the manager for permission, though.

Me: Seriously? You've seen the spot I'm talking about. Nothing I do could possibly make it look worse than it already does.

She liked the idea of turning the rock/weed/bush bed on her side of the building into a garden, though, and the next thing I knew, my neighbor spoke to the manager, who spoke to the owner, who said we could have gardens if we want. His caveat, which just goes to show how long it has been since the sweet man has visited, was this: Please ask them to take good care of the area because we wouldn't want it looking like a big weed patch at the end of the summer.

Ahem. You mean something like this?



Not lying, there are some parts of the complex where the weeks are the size of small trees. They come up to my shoulder and have probably ensnared and digested a few stray cats and/or children. But this is what it looks like now, after a butt-load of work, compost, and fertilizer:


I went to Cook's Farm & Greenhouse in Orem on my neighbor's recommendation to get the plants, and oh my gosh I could have spent all day wandering around in there. A sleepy Dark Lord was with me, though, being hauled around in the little red wagon they provide, so I had to be speedy. I got starts for roma tomatoes, basil, zucchini, squash, cantaloupe, pumpkin, and mint. The prices were good--from $1.00 to $2.50 per plant, which I'm sure would add up if your garden was big but in a tiny one like mine it was pretty great. If I'd known about this place earlier I might have chosen to just skip the 12 weeks of intensive seed-coddling and just let someone else do all the eye-dropper work.

The mint is so I can replicate this fresh limeade I had at a Farmers Market in Park City a few weeks ago. It was $4 per glass, so my s-in-law and I got one to share. When it was gone we ran back and bought another one, it was that good. Watch this space for the recipe once I get it figured out!

Have to say, though, the best part of the whole plant-buying expedition came when we got back to the car and I opened all the windows and fed Little Lord Voldemort in the back seat next to our new baby plants. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze blew through the car, and I had my sweet contented boy in my lap, who looked up and gave me milky little grins even though his diaper was so full it was probably disintegrating. Like I said, it is not the life I've been used to, but moments like these remind me of just what a sweet little life it is.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go Google "tomato leaves curling brown." Has anyone else decided to be brave and plant something?