I love growing plants. Or maybe, I just love the idea of growing plants. Either way, since about high school, I’ve spent time and money on attempting to get plants to grow, with varying degrees of success. Currently, the oldest plant in the house is a hibiscus plant Pippin and the cats gave me last year for Mother’s Day (though in all fairness, before that, I had a shamrock plant I had kept alive through college until Bode decided to eat it, knock the pot off the counter, and scatter the roots beyond all repair).
Anyways, for many years, I’ve spent this time of year browsing around various garden centers, planning for the day when I had my own home and could grow all kinds of things in my own yard.
So, now I have my own home, and I started planning my garden. I picked out a patch of the yard, it was kind of low-lying, so I figured we should build a raised garden bed. I researched it, and started to plan it out…
And that was as far as I got. Husband and I just never got around to getting the materials, the thought of weeding wasn’t impressing me (chalk that one up to hours of my childhood spent in a giant flower bed, pulling what I thought were weeds, but usually turned out to be the plants that were supposed,to be growing there).
After taking those factors into consideration, I decided that container gardening might be a better option. After all, we have a big, beautiful porch that gets very little use. I invested in some Earthboxes, plus wrangled up two more from a previous (failed) experiment with container gardening. Then, I went out and got soil, fertilizer and plant and got set up for planting.
Knowing that he’d spend the entire time barking if I didn’t, I figured a way to allow Pippin to join me on the porch. I looped his leash around one of the rungs on the deck railing, and brought him out a bowl of water. Pippin then spent my planting time happily assisting and napping (mostly napping). Once the dog was situated, I set about planting.
It didn’t take too long for me to realize just how heavy a cubic foot of dirt is (because , face it, you can call it potting soil or potting mix, or whatever you’d like, but really, it is dirt). Of course, it wasn’t until I had two of the four boxes planted that I remembered that my mom gave me a pair of gardening gloves last year. At that point, my hands were so caked with dirt that it seemed pointless to up them on. Next time, I’ll remember, really, I will. By the end of my project, I noticed the huge mess I had created on my porch. But the plants were planted.
My Earthboxes were filled with tomatoes, zucchini, bell and jalapeño peppers, and strawberries, there are two hanging planters on my porch railing with dahlia bulbs, and we put in a flower bed with some lily bulbs in front of the fence (though I’m starting to doubt that those will grow).
Now, if I just can remember to water everything.