I just found some old pictures from last year's garden buried on an old camera. I have posted one here. The 1st picture is from the garden in Pulaski. The other picture is one that I just took of the garden that is actually within commuting distance of where I live now (my backyard). Where did I put those red-sequined shoes? "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's..." On a positive note, the landlords here have graciously given me permission to invade their garden space and put in some veggies. I'm giddy. I kicked Chris out for the weekend. (Actually, he'll be at the annual Red Tail Conservancy Bird-a-thon, which I would love to do, too, but this is serious. He and his friend Kevin are crazy competitive and get up before 4 a.m. I'm out.) He took the car. I made plans to tackle the space and clear it for seeds. In the birding world there's this thing called "The Big Year" when birders spend all of their time, energy, and finances traveling the world to see every bird they can. I'm calling this upcoming 2 days "The Big Weekend." I sighed when I came across the picture from last year. It makes it look so easy. The garden behind the house right now is knee-high with fescue. When I slipped on my mud boots and went outside to scope it out, I had a minor panic attack. Oh well. I'm just going to try not to break myself tomorrow.
On the to do list:
Clear as much area as possible. (It sounds so simple. I mean by hand. Sore, blistered hands, probably.)
Haul llama poop to garden beds. (I'm so excited!)
Erect a mini greenhouse for carrots. Maybe.
Plant potatoes, peas, lettuce, and anything else I've got in my seed bags.
I'm stoked like a surfer before a big swell.