Planting A Garden

My hands are rough and all I want to do it smell good dirt, get some hens (not really, but shit we eat a lot of eggs here at ISIS), grow my own, fix the irrigation piping situation, and perhaps move to a place in the world where it's not so damn hard to grow food.

I would love to pick Angela Madaras's brain (read her blog here -- food, love, Lupus, ongoing self-discovery and the meanderings of one of my bestest bestest friend's heart and soul - at least what Blogger gets of it) about everything in my backyard. Her garden in Ann Arbor is an inspiration to me, and I can taste in the food the grows all the love she puts into it. She's amazing, truly. She's one of those people around whom you just want to be more pure, nice, radiant and loving. She's also among the most generous of anyone I've ever met. Her hubby, D00g, ain't bad either.

Angelas garden, last year:

Happy lettuce, happy clouds, happy dill, happy other stuff. I was honored to weed this garden.

My yard deal:

I've got a couple rows of peas going near a wobbly trellis I fashioned out of materials I'd expected to have made something more sturdy. More than half are dead/not coming up. Some carrot seeds have been sown behind them (fingers crossed; the seeds from last year's or the year before?). Red chard and spinach are waiting out in a low, sort of weedy bed to the south; some spinach coming up. Across the path is a row of transplanted dill volunteers along our fence (which I read recently should never be transplanted) and a mess of salad green potential. Beets and kale seeds to the left. I have watered everything pretty well and I can't wait to see what happens. I have a new friend and client who harvests worm poop who I hope will sell me some good compost here soon to amend the rest of the beds. Despite CO and all its arid love, things are looking pretty sweet out there. But it's spring, and it's raining here and there, and the hose reaches most places.

I was appreciating seeds today for the simple fact that they naturally embrace change; they evolve into plants, get eaten, excreted, go back to the globe. I'd like to take note. Why is it that change is so hard for us people? Perhaps if you soak us overnight and give us some kind of inoculator. Oh, perhaps that's garden slang for getting tore up at the bars or something. Or random use of narcotics from third world countries.

It's so sweet, incidentally, to see all my friends coming back to life in the yard -- peonies, asters, greek oregano, strawberrries, dill spriglets, apple blossoms. I will eat you all. I'll also take some photos tomorrow. The yard is where I spend my free time when I've got it: nothing like babies; nothing like gardening.

Same thing, in effect. Miracles at every turn.

Also -- excited to document Ben's latest project: a little play house for Willoree. She's durrin real good, ya'll. Summer's almost here. We're all set to enjoy, deeply. Off to Seattle in a couple of days for Paul's wedding! I get to take pictures for them...and walk for HOURS on the beach, Orcas Island. Joy.