Growing Things

Spring is reaching its peak here in middle Georgia. Ahh, spring... the very thought of the season makes one want to throw extravagant descriptives into the pollen-thick air: dazzling, resplendent, ambrosial spring. Spring--the new beginning. The time in which the wintry old melts away into new green, new life, new adventure.

New...cabbage?

This guy looks a little wilted  because he was recently transported.
Don't worry--he's happier now. 

Yes, it's true. Though every plant I've tried to nurture has withered away (except for that bean plant I grew in kindergarten--remember the monster that turned into, mom?), somehow Patrick's grandma thinks getting me involved in their garden is a good idea.

Maybe this is a good thing. I mean, I already love so many homemaker-y things, I might as well round myself off by pursuing competence in the things I'm terrible at. Like gardening. Or, *shudder* sewing.

In any case, I'm all for new adventures, as long as an experienced gardener is there to prevent the untimely demise of any of our plants due to my mistreatment or neglect. I should also point out that Patrick, Cambrie and I will probably be eating the lion's share of this garden's bounty. That's pretty good motivation to contribute the manual labor. Maybe in years to come, I'll be adept enough to be the mastermind of my own garden.

Or maybe I'll just rely on Cambrie--she already seems to have this down.

Planting beans.

See? Both plants and Cambries need water to grow!

A week or so ago, when we planted the cabbage, broccoli, romaine, beets, and beans, we were lucky enough to have Patrick's uncle and his wife there to assist. I furtively slipped into my role as photographer and seed-placer. You know, after they told me how deep, how far apart, and how many seeds to place. Baby steps. It'll come.

One row of beets, and two of beans. Holy cow.
I may be forced to have the privilege of learning how to can this year, too. 

This little guy was a little upset at us digging in his home. Cambrie thought he was cool, though.

All my misgivings aside, there is a certain satisfaction to walking away after a day working in the garden. It's that nice feeling of knowing that my physical labor, no matter how trivial or guided, contributed to something that is going to, literally, grow into so much more.

I'm excited to see how this all pans out. I'll keep you updated as to whether anything I touch dies or not. Here's to new adventures!