A New Adventure
A New Adventure
The prophet Zechariah wrote, “For who hath despised the day of small things?” Who indeed? Does not many a great and admired thing have its obscure birth? The majestic oak has its minute acorn, the butterfly has its vile worm, and the celebrated violinist has his primeval squeaks. Why, then, should my humble dirt plot in our suburban backyard not be regarded, perhaps, as the conception of my lifelong dream to be, as I announced to my parents one day long ago, “a farmer’s wife.”
For two back-breaking Saturdays I dug a foot deep into our rocky “filler-dirt.” It was composed largely of aqua-blue bathroom tiles, sand, and huge hunks of coral rock - oh, yes, and some dirt, too. I used several shovels, a rake, and a something-else. I also wielded a heavy pick-ax. (I want to see that this last accomplishment is duly recognized.) Finally, the hole was considered satisfactory, and Papa cut and assembled wood for a border all around the garden. We then laid down paper bags, soil, manure, and more soil.
Several days after I ordered several packets from Heirloom Seeds: English peas, chives, parsnips, sweet pepper, German chamomile, and Greek oregano. I have all but the peppers in the soil now, and I hope to soon dazzle you with glowing reports about bountiful growth and harvest. Hmm... we shall see!
Photograph: Untitled. Untitled. © A Still Small Voice, October 2007.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007