Almost every year since I was little we've had a garden. It used to be on the far left of the yard, guarded by a wire fence with holes just big enough to keep rabbits from stealing our produce. My dad would grow cucumbers to make homemade pickles that filled the kitchen with dill and we always had way too many rosy tomatoes. But, the garden in our current house has soil that's not quite right for what we need it to do-- grow vegetables that is.
Not too far from my house now is a farm that our community is trying to save since it is full of history from when the neighborhood was much smaller. It was in the eighteenth century when the house on the property was built. It's a beautiful piece of land with woods to hike through, a bee farm and an enclosed garden that members can rent out.
My family is renting one out this year with our neighbors which introduces The Garden (project). I will be updating and photographing our garden over the course of its life (can gardens have lives?) And hopefully through this garden I will be able to develop some kind of green thumb or at least come out with a tomato or two.
Since the weather decided to cooperate today, we weeded and broke up the soil.
There were dead plants left over from the previous gardeners as well as weeds on top of weeds.
No more obnoxious, dried out, who-knows-what plants. Only soil ready to be planted.