Seeds and Hard Work

The garden has arrived.

The lilac is in bloom, the herbs have popped through, the grasses are growing tall, and the spirea is in stage one of its colour cavalcade.

The tiny daffodils that I planted last fall are now a crowd, a host ... bunching up against one of Kelly's primroses.

The hydrangea continues to climb the walls but shows no sign of flowering yet.

We are proud of the garden that we built. It pleases our eyes, and just a litle bit, our tummies -- the herbs, perennial onions (lovely in an omelette with goat cheese and a little bit of lovage, also from the herb bed), tomatoes that soak up the patio's heat, and spicy chinese mustard.

But this year we got to thinking, wouldn't it be nice if we could plant a few more vegetables. Fava beans, to be precise. (We'll serve them with a nice chianti ...)

And wouldn't it be nice to try and reclaim this paved-over patch of driveway, while still having easy access to the garage?

The job cried out for a good carpenter. Having already designed and executed the front porch and accompanying planter --features which continue to garner appreciative comments from the neighbours and which also seem to have spearheaded a mini porch-building boom on our block-- Kelly sprang into action, designing and building a rusticly beautiful yet functional 6 x 2 cedar bed. (I cut the wood for her.)

It only looks like she's building a coffin.

Here it is, screen protecting the fava beans from the squirrels until they sprout. After that, who knows. We've also planted a yellow zucchini and a jalapeno pepper. The giant olive oil cans are for overflow heirloom tomatoes -- red brandywines and yellow banana leggs.

We'll have to see how it turns out. As Henry David Thoreau wrote, "I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders." It takes a bit of hard work, too.

Not that there isn`t also time for relaxation on our small little patch of Earth.

Where's my martini?