I don't really *do* dirt. I get ticked off when my kids track it into the house, I get annoyed when its under my fingernails, and ohmigawd when it gets in my eye I could just scream. But I, for whatever reason, decided that I wanted a garden.I needed a garden. I've had failed planter disasters (read: "American Bulldog puppies like to dig") before, and have somehow kept a sweet mint plan alive for the past four years, but other than that, my green thumb was more brown, as they say.
So last spring/summer, my mister man dug up a little plot for me, probably rolling his eyes every 5 minutes because he knows of my issues with commitment... But he does it for me anyway because I pack his lunch every day and he knows he'll get an unopened can of tuna and an old pear if he doesn't (we'll touch more on enabling in another post). So I got a lovely 8' x 3.5' plot to plant whatever my little heart desired.
I planted two types of kale, two types of cucumbers, radishes, carrots, white onions, jalapeños, purple(!!!) tomatillos, serrano peppers, strawberries, and tomatoes. I had herbs, too - basil, cilantro, and mint, and lemon verbena... all in mismatched containers, of course.
