I always think of our little yard (which we love) as a real craphole. Dogs. Mud. Winter. ...And then every spring I'm shocked and surprised to remember that we have a beautiful little city hideaway once everything finally gets going. Bloom, flowers, bloom! Grow plants grow!
I'm a big fan of the more english-style casual gardens, the kind people actually live in, with tools everywhere and plants growing free and little boys digging in the dirt.
I planted my first herb/veggie garden last year and we're hittin' it up again this year for round two. (cilantro, basil, sage, chives, hot peppers, spinach, oregano, and many many tomato seedlings. bless the seed gods, amen. mint. mint? maybe i need some mint too.)
I am a casual gardener at best, plant killer at worst, so it's always a guessing game as to which way everything will go. I'm not at all exaggerating– I. Kill. Plants. I think I crush them with love, I just want to keep them alive so badly that I water and tend and water and tend and move them around for better sun and before I know it they all turn into sad little sticks of failure. But plants, I just love you so much! But not enough to water you after July!
For now though... the yard. Oh, it is lovely. Lovelier than I remembered.
More outside time please!
(I was going to make this a quick wordless Wednesday, and then I remembered how much I like talking about plants. So... plants plants plants! Plants!
And photos of my plants!)
Tastes like spring, doesn't it? Mmmmmmm.
(The brick path is new; the dog, it is old.
This picture gives me a very eloquent kind of heartache.)