When we bought our house, the backyard looked like this:
Well, almost like that. There was a storage shed, which we gave away, but besides that the yard was empty, zero landscaping. We do have a fabulous assortment of trees: one crepe myrtle, one pecan tree, and two giant palm trees. But excluding the trees, in the beginning, it was just grass and fence.
The first spring, right before Rush was born, we added dirt and filled in one little corner. Our plan was to add a little more each year, gradually making our yard lush and beautiful. Looking at this old picture from March 2009, I had forgotten how scrawny our lime tree (in the corner) once was. And I had definitely forgotten that the vine (on the left) once had flowers. The vine has stayed alive, but is currently classified as a failure to thrive.
We recently reached a new milestone – our beds stretch the length of the back fence. It has been an on-going process, four springs later here we are. We’re finally starting to pay attention to things like whether a plant needs shade or sun before we plant it, and finally focusing on getting some evergreen plants mixed in with all the plants that die away during the winter, a category which includes almost everything we have.
The biggest trick is the dirt. My Austin friends appear to be able to rip out grass, till a nice patch of dirt, and plant vegetables. We rip out grass, then spend 75% of our plant money on dirt every year. The ground here is all clay, not the “hmm, let’s just till a little deeper” clay, but the “hey Trent, do you mind building a screen so I can clean this out and make pottery out of it” clay. I found directions online for cleaning the clay, and thanks to the Dewey Decimal System, I’ll be heading to the 738’s to check out the ceramic arts section on our next library trip. I’ll also need access to a pottery wheel, a kiln, and a body that doesn’t crash land asleep on the couch every night as soon as I get the boys in bed.
I could talk about composting here, but I’ll spare everyone the details. Trent and I are borderline obsessed with our compost pile and once we start talking about compost we can’t stop. We used to have season tickets to the theater. Now look at what we’ve become.
So far this year we’ve planted tomatoes, bell peppers, jalapenos, cilantro, parsley, basil, and mint. We have seeds for green beans and onions, but we’re short on good soil at the moment. The extent of my gardening knowledge comes from my dad: you must have good soil. My grandfather had an incredible garden, then of course my parents and all their fellow baby boomers enjoyed the fact that they didn’t have to worry about a garden. Now that my generation is panicked over the unsustainability of Spaghetti-o’s, we’re back to gardening, but without the benefit of actually knowing anything about it. When I was in high school and Pop was old enough that he had let his garden go, I had the grand idea of starting my own garden. My dad decided I could plant in Gran and Pop’s yard, and I remember talking with him as he tilled their old garden to get it ready for planting. Specifically I remember my dad killing a snake with the tiller and me telling him that Dead Snake Fertilizer would be a good name for a band if he ever started one. That’s actually a horrible name for a band, even in the 90’s. Looking back, I’m always amazed at that memory and how he worked with me on the garden idea, probably knowing I wouldn’t follow through and actually produce any vegetables. I doubt that I actually ever planted seeds. But I do feel very loved knowing my dad tilled all that ground for me.
And to thank him, I’m going to interrogate him next time I see him and get every ounce of gardening information I can from him. That’s the parent/child relationship isn’t it? The kids just take and take and take. So Dad, if you read this, how about a deal- I will trade you a box of Klondike bars for your gardening knowledge.
We did find a box in the garage that Trent made a few years ago (I think for lettuce) and raised it above ground for mint. We’re hoping the mint will just go crazy in there and we can enjoy a gallon after gallon of Kentucky Farm Tea this summer.
The next challenge, and really a Rubicon moment, is our front yard. It’s very bland with very square hedges. Trent has been itching to rip out the hedges for years, but I’ve consistently pointed out the houses in the neighborhood who did that and ended up with a landscaping wasteland. Our front yard may be boring, but at least it looks decent. We finally committed ourselves to taking on the front yard by giving all our landscaping blocks to our across-the-street neighbor with possibly the most beautiful yard on the street. After he takes the blocks this weekend, there’s no turning back. Goodbye to the safe suburban landscape and hello to whatever we decide to add.
Great plan, right? Whatever we decide to add sums up our plan pretty well. We’re not ripping out all the hedges yet, but we’re branching out in some ways and we need to add, add, add. Our front yard is all shade and brief afternoon sun. Let’s hope we can make it work. If nothing else, it will have character.
That’s optimistic, but not actually true. If nothing else, the front our house will be a vast expanse of dirt and dead plants. Let’s hope we hit closer to character.
