Cement Garden

Last Sunday I did something that I've never done before. I planted seeds. Now, I have planted seeds in my garden before, but this time I planted indoor starts to later be transplanted. And I'm so excited! I'm anxious to care for my little baby plants, water them and watch them peak their heads out of the soil, and then, when they're big enough, plant them out in the real world and hope that they survive.

I had received packets of seeds as gifts here and there and as my allergies kicked in I grew inspired to contribute to the new life emerging into Spring. I sowed seeds for Borage, a leafy plant with edible purple flowers, Lavender, Morning Glory vines and Sunflowers. I also planted a few Cosmo seeds into a pot outside, which I'll most likely transplant later into the ground.

I foresee one problem, though. I don't actually have a "garden", just a few empty pots, a strip in front of my house, which is already full with daffodils, and a small patch of dirt under a shade tree. Directly in front of my door is a large cement area attached to the cement driveway. My options for replanting aren't great. I'll have to rely heavily on the pots. One day, though, I will have a house, my own house, and I'll create a garden where I can grow such things as lettuce and peas and tomatoes. Home grown tomatoes are amazing. I'm not a huge tomato fan, but the thought of succulent home grown tomatoes makes my mouth water.

Actually, one of my greatest dreams is to one day own a farm with vast pastures for animals to freely roam and rich soil to grow our own food. It will take a ton of work, I know. More work, perhaps, than I'm actually willing to do. But, I can picture it clearly in my mind.

When I was probably 14 or so, I went with my mom and (ex) step dad to a lake right along the Oregon Coast. We went to windsurf and camp and one evening we drove into the nearest town for dinner. Along the way, the thick golden rays from the lowering sun showered over a farm along the highway. There was a quaint red house with a red barn and lush, green fields as far as the eye could see. The ridge of a hill in the distance was spotted with white sheep. Closer in was a flock of brilliant white geese. And in the field directly in front of the house was a herd of pigs, running freely, full bore into the sea of green grass that spread out before them. I had never seen pigs looks so clean and healthy and happy. I started to cry. I wanted that farm so bad. I made my mom go back and I took pictures, one of which I hung on my wall to remind me of that dream.

So, my little plant starts mean more to me than watching them grow. If I succeed in growing them (I don't exactly have a green thumb), then I'm creating a garden even though I don't have one in the true sense of the word. Why that is so important to me is that I'm taking the steps to realize a dream in the face of challenge, where the final results are not easily seen. I've planted the starts, but I don't know where they're all going to live in the end. But, if I can create a "garden" in the vastness of cement in front of my house, it gives me a glimmer of hope for realizing the bigger dream: the big farm with lush pastures and perfect little piggies.

Cheers to growing!

Love,
Aislinn