Foundations

It doesn't look like much, but, to me, this patch of dirt has become a big part of my life in the past few weeks. After years of talking about urban gardening and saying that I'd love to try it someday, I finally picked up a shovel and started to prepare the garden plot in my backyard.

I recently realized that I have harbored a fear of gardening. I'm scared I won't be able to grow anything. I'm scared I will neglect my plants. I'm scared I'll spend time and money only to yield weeds and tasteless vegetables. I'm scared that gardening is too complex. Crop rotation? Cover crop? Caches? When to plant? Garden pests? Gardening is a world I know virtually nothing about.

And yet I have no more excuses not to try gardening. I have a 6'x10' garden plot of land in the backyard of the house I moved into in April. I have no homework (only until September!). And I have an increasing interest in getting my thumbs green. So I've officially started gardening.

I didn't want this experiment to be a showy performance, though. Urban gardening is quite trendy now (which is a great thing!), and I didn't want to take a handful of "before" pictures only to be reminded of my failure if I did not follow through with this experiment. In retrospect, I wish I had taken the time to chronicle the first stage of the garden. The five feet of weeds and overgrowth that dominated the small plot of land. The significant transformation that occurred after only about an hour of weeding. But, what's done is done, and so I begin chronicling the life of my garden in mid-aeration stage.

Sounds technical, right? I'm not actually sure what the method I'm using is called, but I do know that I am incredibly blessed to have re-connected with an old friend who is an excellent gardening. Last week she came over for dinner and gave me some pointers on how to prepare the soil. I had dug up all the weeds, but knew that I needed to show the plot some significant love before throwing seeds or starts in it. The problem was, I didn't know what to do! Thankfully, my friend shared with me a simple method of digging trenches and poking a pitchfork through the dirt in order to loosen up the dirt and make plenty of space for roots to sink in. I'm currently about halfway through this process (and very excited to visit my friend's garden tomorrow!).

As I've been digging in the dirt, I've encounted some pretty interesting finds. I had no idea that this little plot of land would turn into such an archeological dig. I can only imagine the events and situations that led to cigarette packs, nail polish, bits of garbage, and the metal part of a shovel to be buried up to a foot and a half in the ground. Did former residents bury these ideas purposefully? How long had they been in the ground? As disturbing as it was to find so much garbage in the garden, it was encouraging to come across a crop of potatoes. Although only halfway through the process, I've uncovered about 25 potatoes. They don't look too moldy or rotten, but based on the overgrowth, I'm sure they've been hanging out underground for at least a few years.

These small white roots give me hope that the garden will produce life. That seeds will sprout. That in a few months there may be leafy greens on my plate, and next summer there may be
raspberries - all grown in the backyard.

I'm trying not to have too many expectations for myself or the garden. After all, I have far too many interests, and may become tired of gardening tomorrow. But after spending a few hours back there, as well as perusing through books, chatting with gardening friends, visiting demonstration gardens down my street, and exploring how faith and gardening are intertwined, I am eager to continue this process. I find myself thinking and planning, peeking my head out the window to enjoy my progress, and becoming increasingly hopeful for the transformation that just may occur in my very own backyard.