4.30.2012

sow, weed, water, wait

Guys, I planted my plants. Not in containers. In the ground. Crazy, right?

So about a month ago, Levon (noroomforhipsters.com) asked if I'd be interested in helping him re-start their garden. They're lucky enough to have a big sunny yard, and had a garden that they shared with a couple other families, but when they left town and rented out the house a couple years ago, the renters mowed it over and let the bermuda grass go wild.

With talk of Levon & Ashley skipping town and renting out the house again, they saw fit to rope me in as an equal-shares protector and maintainer of the garden, with the incentive of pretty much giving me free reign.

So we tilled up a big patch of grass, and then let it sit there for a couple weeks, while I scrounged up a rag-tag bunch of plants and the weather made some characteristically unexpected turns. Then, finally, on Saturday the planets aligned, and Levon and I both had free time, plants, and a sunny day.

Six hours later there stood something that we could pretty unashamedly call a garden. A pair of mounded beds full of peppers and tomatoes, a nearly level raised bed (without the soil to fill it, as of yet), a fledgling bramble of raspberries and blueberries, and brick-lined pathways connecting it all.






It is, at the very least, a start, and will hopefully continue to push back the lawn, until we're ding-dong-ditching zucchini on every porch within a mile radius.

4.22.2012

from Russia with love (and spam)

I need to move into a house where I can paint every surface in chalkboard paint. That's my problem with journaling; the words hide between the covers instead of staring at you from the walls. Emily pointed out that basically this means I want to be a crazy person. If that's what it takes, so be it.

In unrelated news, someone please tell the Russians to stop doing whatever it is they're doing. Either my blog is hot shit in Moscow, or SPECTRE is using it as a front for their new death ray tracking system. Couldn't be anything else. Nope.

Russians. I see you over there. You too, Latvians.