The backyard has always hated me, ever since I first hurled a fork into it three and a half years ago. The soil was compact and the grass never grew just right, when it grew at all. The main run of the tiny townhouse lawn’s a dirt heap that we hide from view and pretend doesn’t exist. On the other side the soil’s perfect; having tended to it as a simple flower garden and small herb garden that, has since, fallen from grace. Now it’s just been five months of staring solemnly at the once-great backyard project, followed by a sigh.
Boredom’s recently gotten the best of me – being on the last legs of the study break and having run out of lounging steam. I couldn’t take another day of nothing, so I went and lay outside. I can’t remember the exact thought train that led to the decision, but I looked to the shaded graveyard of a garden and just said ‘F**k it, let’s grow it again’.
Bigger, better, badder. A herb garden wouldn’t suffice anymore, the landlord be damned! If I want potatoes, I’ll grow them in a sack. If I want lettuce I’ll fill a pot with them. I had to take a minute to calm down when I caught myself poking around the house, questioning what I could drill holes in to grow food inside of.
I bought worms and started a compost heap, scoured the classifieds for someone selling pre-turned manure and everything else just fell into place.
I’ve picked out two potato species and ordered the seedlings – Kipfler and Kennebec, but It will be a month or more before we see much of anything from them.
The updates forthcoming, I’ll keep it at herbs for now.