Urban Garden

Do you know how exciting it is to live in an apartment that has a yard after 10 years of scrawny balconies? I am all about small victories. I once told myself, and whomever would listen, that the day I did not have to use quarters to wash my laundry would be the day I had made it! Made it to what, well, that, I have no idea. The yard is a big deal. I want a garden. A few months ago, in May, I believe, I decided that we would plant a garden. Now let me explain this “yard” to you. It is 1000 square feet of mostly cement. On either side of the yard there are two opportunities for life. Both of these areas are covered in rocks. Literally. Like, the tenants before us went and bought thousands of little rocks and dumped them over the places where my potential garden could grow. Considering myself thoughtful I wondered, were they just trying to save water hence no grass, no veggies, no flowers? Was the dirt bad? Personally I have never encountered “bad dirt” but I hear it is out there. On one side of the rock garden, there is a beautiful tree that reaches far into the sky. It is so green. Almost evergreenish looking. There is no way this dirt can be bad, right? I mean, this tree is intimidating. It is big, strong and tall.  My daughter will stand underneath it, throw her head back, reach her chunky little arms way up high and say, “Tree! Hello! Whooooooaaaaaa!” She gets dizzy, falls onto her plump butt, laughing. I love her. Back to the garden. It was worth a shot.  My mother can grow anything. I mean, anything. Trees, flowers, vegetables and fruit. She speaks their language, fluently. She can look at this bit of life growing from the ground and she knows its pain. She knows whether it needs more water, sun, shade, love, fish guts, whatever. She can nurse brown, worn, sad, deathly plants, into glorious creatures that exude life and love. To say she has a green thumb would be an understatement.  I was nervous to venture off into garden planting without her. Nervous, intimidated and less then confident. However, I want my daughter to try new things whether they intimidate her or not. I want my daughter to be confident. I want my daughter to eat vegetables from her garden at home, just like I did growing up, despite the fact that I am raising her in Los Angeles. A far cry from San Luis Obispo but you must play the cards you are dealt.  So we hit the dirt. My husband got our daughter a mini rake and shovel. We spent the next few days raking up rocks, pulling weeds and getting the ground ready. I had no idea what I was doing but I believed that the ground was good and that something would grow. If one thing grew, that would be sufficient! We planted carrots, strawberries, green onions, peppers, a lemon tree and a blueberry bush. I was connected. It was not a feeling, it just was. I loved watching my little girl throwing around dirt, playing with rocks, every once in a while shrieking out, BUG! We watered the plants and we waited. Almost everything grew, and grew and grew. We have everything short of the blueberries. The bush still looks pretty but no blueberries. That is okay. We still love it and water it everyday. My daughter says hello to the plants all the time. She waters them and gets herself drenched. She is only a year and a half, but going on three. She picks the strawberries and eats them. There are no pesticides to worry about, there is no trip to the market. Becoming Green is a process and one that must happen. This step has given my family something to be proud of. Something that is capable of holding us all in the moment.  There is something to be said for anything that can hold you for a moment.