An Artist's Garden
The garden is more than the plants it produces. The soil carries life from before, enriching the future. The growth starts like sorcery, sometimes ending abruptly and then begins again, with or without my aid. The garden conjures memories of all the parties its held, all the dinners that witnessed its beauty, its heat, its humidity and the sudden friends - butteriflies, moths, spiders, and sometimes enemies- snakes, mosquitoes, flies. Sometimes I don't know how to classify the visitors. Are they friends, neutral guests, or enemies? But the garden always knows. The garden is a better read of character than I, showing its opinions through wilted leaves, and nibbled flowers (which I don't mind) and infested, rotting zucchini ends. The garden tells me a lot about the people that visit also. Can they tolerate its messiness? Are they bothered by its inhabitants? The only thing I control is the layout- as it is important to remember with or without me, the garden would hold its own, full of life that I only am begining to understand.
The Flooding
We had a yard that was sad, so sad that its tears began to pour into our home. Our home was unfortunately placed where the land didn't approve in one of the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains... It was our job to work with the natural landscape and do what we could to prevent flooding. Unfortunately this is an issue all over due to over and under researched development.
The Beginning of Something
We are landlocked by neighbors on both sides so our yard had to be hand dug. We placed French drains under each new raised bed. It worked! We have had some downpours and have stayed dry.
