Ancient (Garden) History

I'm not writing this from the table on my back deck ... but I could be. It's where I spend a lot of time—sometimes reading, most times doing nothing. Just sitting there, being human.

I'm able to do this (i.e. nothing), because I know what the yard looked like before I moved in 8 years ago, and what I'm really doing (besides nothing) is just kinda savoring what's become of that gloomy dirt/weed patch. Something green and vital. Something that hums.

Yes, yes, I've done a lot of work. But now the garden runs itself, I swear. I am particularly proud of how much the bees love it in there. Those guys work hard—it feels good to make them happy. Also? There's still an excitement every time something comes into bloom. That's fun.

I don't think modern folks feel much of a bond with where they live. We travel too much, and we move all the time. But I was thinking today, when I came across a couple ancient house pics on my hard drive, that propagating my garden—it's how I've connected with my land, primordially speaking. Cool, huh?

Circa 2006, when pulling weeds was my life.

Spring 2007, when my mommy came to visit and helped me plant some starts.

Spring 2014—a horticultural bonanza.