We moved into this house in August last year. Too late really for any gardening to speak of. In fact, I didn't even manage to fulfill my goal of turning the earth where the garden would be before the first freeze. My Grandpa always brought in a truckload of manure and tilled it into the ground after the garden's final harvest in the fall. Between the new job and unpacking, I never even got the garden plot staked out.

It's late February, in a few days it will be March and I don't care what anyone says, March is practically spring. I've found myself staring out our back window more and more. On my endless treks around the dining room table walking the baby, I find myself gazing out at the backyard for longer than little A is comfortable with. Fortunately, she's not shy about getting me moving again.


It was this big back yard that took our breath away that June day as we saw it for the first time. All the other problems with the house melt away when you look out back.

Last summer, this is what we saw, looking out that window. Pretty amazing isn't it? After living in apartments and townhouses with no private space, this backyard is practically nirvana!

The backyard doesn't look like that anymore. I'm not really in the mood to put up a picture of what actually is out behind my house. Let's just say it's 40% mud, 20% snow, 20% fallen branches and not a lot of hope. I'm sure I'll feel better in a few days. There's something about March (even March 1st) that feels like spring.


For now I'll just leave you with a springy picture to help get you through. Actually, I took this picture in the fall, the day we closed on the house, when we showed up the driveway was lined with Hibiscus bushes in full bloom. They took my breath away and I immediately took it as a sign that we had made a good decision on the house. It was a much better sign anyway than the leaky sink and the peeling paint in the bathroom.

Can you feel the sunshine? Me neither, but I can pretend.

• I am not afraid to drive in the snow.
• When a stranger smiles at me I don't think it's creepy . . most of the time.
• I can be impressed by the blackness of your dirt or the fatness of your squirrels.
• I need four seasons to be happy.
• I am not bothered by the smell of manure.
• I loathe the smell of a hog factory.
• I can smell the rain before it hits.
• I can tell by looking, if it's tornado weather.
• Being a good neighbor is important.
• So is having them.
• It's also important to respect and take care of your elders.
• You're elders give you good cause to respect them in kind.
• It's important to learn while you can, and teach what you know.
• Family is more important than money.
• You can make your neighbor mow, just by mowing yours.
• Tomatoes always taste better, warmed by the sun.

When I was growing up my grandpa grew a garden every summer in my backyard behind the garage. My grandparents lived down the street from us. I loved having them so close but summertime was extra special because most mornings grandpa could be found in our backyard staring at the garden. I can remember the hard work he put in. The planting, the watering. But mostly I remember him just standing there, watching the garden grow.

Grandpa's garden was lush and green. He basically grew the same things every year. Cucumbers up by the garage, radishes, kohlrabi, green peppers, green beans, cabbage, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes and sometimes he would try something different like watermelon or carrots. I learned a lot in those summers. I learned that tomatoes taste better warmed by the sun. I learned that if you build your tomato plants into little hills that you can stand at one side of the garden and the water will run naturally. I learned that cucumbers were spiky and that butterflies were for cussing at. Right now, I hope I learned enough to keep my own garden growing.

I spent hours with him out in the garden. They are some of my most precious memories. I always knew that I would have my own garden someday. I just never knew it would take so long. Grandpa stopped planting the garden when I was around 13. It was just too much work and my parents moved a few years later. After I went away to college I lived in a series of no-yard apartments, duplexes and townhouses. Until this summer, that is. In August my husband and I bought a house with a big back yard. We moved in on a sweltering Tuesday and on Thursday I got word that my grandpa had died. So I guess I’m planting this garden for him as well as me. I just know that standing out there in the sun, watching the tomatoes turn, is a warm place I would like to be.

So this blog is about all that. My grandpa and his garden and me and mine. I’ll try to remember everything he taught me as well as some new stuff I pick up along the way so that I can stand again, like I did so many years ago, hip deep in tomato plants, warmed by the sun.

When I was growing up my grandpa grew a garden every summer in my backyard behind the garage. My grandparents lived down the street from us. I loved having them so close but summertime was extra special because most mornings grandpa could be found in our backyard staring at the garden. I can remember the hard work he put in. The planting, the watering. But mostly I remember him just standing there, watching the garden grow.

Grandpa's garden was lush and green. He basically grew the same things every year. Cucumbers up by the garage, radishes, kohlrabi, onions, green peppers, green beans, cabbage, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes and sometimes he would try something different like watermelon or carrots. I learned a lot in those summers. I learned that tomatoes taste better warmed by the sun. I learned that if you build your tomato plants into little hills that you can stand at one side of the garden and the water will run naturally. I learned that cucumbers were spiky and that butterflies were for cussing at. Right now, I hope I learned enough to keep my own garden growing.

I spent hours with him out in the garden. They are some of my most precious memories. I always knew that I would have my own garden someday. I just never knew it would take so long. Grandpa stopped planting the garden when I was around 13. It was just too much work and my parents moved a few years later. After I went away to college I lived in a series of no-yard apartments, duplexes and townhouses. Until this summer, that is. In August my husband and I bought a house with a big back yard. We moved in on a sweltering Tuesday and on Thursday I got word that my grandpa had died. So I guess I'm planting this garden for him as well as me. I just know that standing out there in the sun, watching the tomatoes turn, is a warm place I would like to be.

So this blog is about all that. My grandpa and his garden and me and mine. I'll try to remember everything he taught me as well as some new stuff I pick up along the way so that I can stand again, like I did so many years ago, hip deep in tomato plants, warmed by the sun.