I haven't been too excited about our garden for the past couple of years, mainly because we have been in a drought of epic proportions. Last year we managed to harvest a few pathetic little tomatoes, and very little else.
When Hubby and I first married (and our anniversary is this weekend - yay! I think a motorhome would make an excellent gift for the 12-year mark), we had quite a sizable garden in the back yard. It was in a perfect spot, lots of sunshine and good soil. We planted peas, okra, squash, peppers, cucumbers, squash, zucchini, tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes. That's when I found out that tomatoes are pretty much the only "vegetable" that Hubby will eat. And peppers.
Then we put a swimming pool in the perfect garden spot. You can't be too picky about where to put a swimming pool. It has to A) fit between the property lines; and B) not be over septic tank lines. Unless you are us (yes, I know it's properer to say "you are we" but that just sounds retarded in spite of its correctness), in which case you pay about a gazillion dollars for someone to MOVE the septic tank lines, and that's BEFORE you spend the gazillion dollars you actually meant to spend on the swimming pool.
We've tried a couple of different spots for our garden, and we've had various degrees of success. Last year Hubby decided to make sort of a "fake" spot where the soil isn't very good but the sunshine situation was better. He used railroad ties and potting soil to make a tiny little garden plot.
Everything died last year. Apparently even if one surreptitiously waters a garden, flying in the face of county, state, and probably federal watering restrictions, nothing can replace good old rainwater. And we had precious little of that last year. And the year before that. And the year before that........ ad infinitum in reverse.
So far this year our little baby garden is doing nicely.
Pardon the bent piece of fence at the back of our yard where part of a tree came crashing down in one of our winter storms. Or maybe a fall storm. Whatever. It keeps the neighbors on their side and us on our side, so apparently it's good enough.
Look at those cute little baby squashes peeking through the leaves there. I can't wait for them to grow up and get jobs. Hubby doesn't really care for squash (except fried), but I can't wait to make a big old squash casserole. He wouldn't eat squash casserole on a dare, but I could live off it. At least for a day or two.
I couldn't get a very good shot of this zucchini without pulling that withered piece of bloom (?) off the end, but I was afraid it would stunt the growing process. I wish zucchini were as easy to spot as the yellow squash; sometimes I miss one, and then it's like Invasion of the Giant Zucchini the next time I go out to the garden spot.
Hello, you shiny little tomatoes. I can't wait until you get big and ripe enough to slice and put between two pieces of bread for a midday tomato sandwich. Ironically, I wouldn't eat tomatoes at all until I was in my late twenties or early thirties. LOVED catsup, but I wouldn't touch tomatoes. Then I had some fresh ones from my own garden with some crisp bacon and cool lettuce on a sandwich, and I was hooked.
Hubby is of the opinion that one cannot have too many tomato plants. He fusses if he thinks any of them might go to waste. When I start cutting them up into his cereal, he might decide it's better not to plant more than we can eat.
He even plants them in buckets when he runs out of room in the "fake" garden spot.
Hubby is also somewhat of a pepper freak. I realize they are slightly out of focus. We can't all be Pioneer Woman when it comes to photography. Or gardens. Or cooking. Or living.
The only way Hubby would ever consider moving to another house is if he were suddenly able to have about 5 acres of land so he could have a bigger garden.
I'm not pushing for it; cooking is enough of a chore without adding in canning and freezing. That's just way too much domesticity for me.