I live in a condo. With a shared common area yard. Shared with the neighbors two small children, their one large dog and enough plastic toys to entertain a hand full of generations to come.
All of which is to explain why I don't garden. Oh, and there is little sun. And the year I planted tomatoes they were eaten by the town roof rats. That was the last straw. Actually the last tomato.
But every January I get the urge. It's a physical pull in the center of my chest. I want to plant seeds. I want to dig and to watch things grow. I begin designing elaborate cantilevered structures to hang plants from with sonar devices to keep the kids and critters away. Two nights ago I imagined an enclosed greenhouse.
"Do you think we could build one on the back deck?" I asked my resident cute guy builder.
He pointed out our deck is over the garage. And up three flights of stairs.
Ummm. I haven't given up.
In the meantime I took blueberries for muffins out of the freezer last night and remembered the Fairfax farmers' market where I bought them. Not quite like growing them but that hot summer evening, the redwood trees in the park, the subsequent walk around town snacking on blueberries all came back to me.
Not the harvest memories I'm longing for but I love them all the same.
15 hours ago
2 comments:
Don't give up on the planting dreams, K! You'll figure something out. How about a community garden somewhere?
Frozen is my daughter's preferred method for eating blueberries. She calls them "iceberries." Good thing, too, as our apples are going to run out in Feb. but the blueberries sure won't! (I put them into a thermos for her lunch.)
--El.
El - Every year I consider the community garden and every year I get closer to doing it.
I realized early on I did not freeze enough blueberries. Too many strawberries and not enough blueberries!
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