How my garden grows

Never before in my life have I had a garden. With the exception of the citrus trees we had around our house, and the small watermelon and corn plants that sprung up from where my sister threw some seeds, we never grew our own produce. I think the primary reason for the citrus was so my dad always had mixers on hand. Unfortunately a cross pollination accident resulting in lemon-orange-grapefruits, and lemon-lime-kumquats resulted in some pretty nasty citrus.

We applied for and got a garden plot in our complex's community garden. Not knowing a thing about gardening, and having an extraordinary talent for killing green things (if they don't cry, how do I know they're hungry?), I haven't done a thing with the plot since the summer. The weeds, however, have colonized our garden. Following this weekend's rain, and a nasty letter from FSH, I decided to tackle the weeds.

I had never weeded anything before but this weekend I became a weeding machine. The tactile experience of massaging the base of the root in damp soil to get the damn thing to release was more fun that I ever thought it would be. After 45 min I had cleared the plot and redistributed the soil. Working in a field where you always have one more book, one more draft, one more article, I revel in hobbies where I have a tangible sense of completion. When I knit, I have a project at the end of it; same for quilting. Seeing a whole trashcan over-flowing with plant material you extracted from the ground was a wonderfully satisfying experience.I conquered the invading plants and can now prep for planting.

Which means I now have to figure out what to plant...