A few weeks ago I went to get a haircut, and on the way back I passed by KMart. Since I had a KMart gift card and since KMart sells plants, it seemed like a good idea to get some flowers to put in my front flower bed. The one that, at the time, filled with weeds. So I wandered around the garden center and acted like I knew what I was doing. I scoped out the flowers, checked their leaves and buds, checked the soil type and sun preference. I like to think that I looked very knowledgable, but in reality, I was just grabbing things that I thought were pretty. I loaded them into my car and when I got home tackled the front flower bed. Three hours later, all the plants were in the ground and I was pretty pleased with myself.
Then last weekend Rusty and I bought a bunch of vegetable plants and seeds, and on Monday we got everything in the ground. Garrett is graciously making us a lettuce table, so once that gets here we'll slap some lettuce and spinach seeds in there and see what happens.
But here's the deal. I don't know the first thing about gardening. Which is strange, since most of my life has been spent around very successful gardeners. Successfully pulling weeds is about the extent of my knowledge.
However amatuer I may be, I am now the proud owner of both a flower garden and a vegetable garden. And I find myself strangely attached to these plants, like I am inordinately proud of how well my azalea bush is doing, and have not stopped worrying about whether my tomatos are getting enough sun. I've been out there everyday, several times a day, checking the water situation, the sun situation, and yanking any errant weeds that dare to sprout up around my new babies.
Hopefully my hard work will pay off later when I have tomatos and oregano and carrots coming out my ears.