I found these pictures of my garden that I made out of rock hard, dog-compacted, neglected soil inhabited by previous dope-dealing renters of my home. The entire yard (two city lots) was concrete-like dirt with dandelions. I dug the entire front and back yard (did I mention it was two city lots?) by hand. Just me and shovel and a whole lotta determination.
I got kinda sappy and even a bit teary when I found these photos. In 2003, Andy and I had decided to settle as much as we felt comfortable doing, which wasn’t much really. We bought a house on a lick and a promise. We had no money and talked a relative into co-signing a loan. With art degrees, two cats and furniture we found in alleys. We had been together for six years. I had just started my work at the museum.
No fence around the garden. Before dog. Before marriage. Before house remodels. Before purchasing our first grown-up things like a fridge and a couch that was sturdy and pretty and I could imagine having forever. Before my half-time receptionist job turned into a full-steam-ahead career. Before a kid.
Five years ago my garden was unfenced and limitless. The soil was dug and amended and seeds were sowed (the metaphors! I know!). It was an experiment that turned out pretty well.