I'm starting this blog in order to chronicle my adventures in backyard gardening. I can only imagine the success and failures you'll witness here - most likely many, many failures if my history with houseplants is any kind of indication as to just how not-green my thumb is.
Now in theory, I shouldn't have such a bad time. My actual experience in gardening started from the time I was a little, toddling by my parents' side as they plowed the earth and nurtured seedlings into full grown plants. I grew up with 40 x 20 ft full vegetable garden in the back yard. We had a seperate herb garden, and flower patches scattered about every corner of the lawn. Each spring I watched as my dad revved up the rottatiller, airating the soil into fluffy parallel mounds, and then again in the fall as the finished crops were tilled under for winter.
My mom and I would go out with the hoe and rake, creating delicate ditches where we scattered seeds of peas, green and yellow beans, broccoli, asapargus, yellow squash, zucchini, and more. We'd go to the local nursary where we'd pick up six packs of marigolds to plant at the end of each row in order to keep away pests with their strong scent, and cheer up the garden with bright reds, oranges and golds.
Around this time, the fall bulbs would be headed into full bloom. Grape hyacinth was a family favorite that we planted at the end of the house amidst tulips.
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