Growing Family

Blood and Bones

It wasn't until I was already covered in powdered blood and bone meal, with the wind picking it up and sending it flying, that I began to wonder if I had made a huge mistake.

Last week I spent many hours on a job, coordinating the building of a garden I had designed for a pool contractor who wants to recommend me to his clients that want to incorporate edibles into their landscapes. His home is a sort of test-run, and will hopefully lead to more referrals for my services as a garden coach.

"L" lives in a multi-generational arrangement, and I have been honored to meet many family members, and dialogue with them about the garden we are building. There are many inclusions for his Italian father, and Mexican mother, who both love to cook. I have really enjoyed transforming underutilized areas into gorgeous and productive spaces that will provide sustenance for the humans as well as the insects and other wildlife.

Friday I was on site by myself to spread organic fertilizers and nutrients into the beds before we return to plant them. I had already made friends with the very intimidating baby of the family, Nina, a red nosed pitbull. She ate my lunch earlier in the week, and I've been intentional to stop and talk to her several times a day, letting her smell me and scratching her behind the ears. 

As soon as I cut open the first bag of blood meal, her nose was in the air, sniffing. I carefully opened the bone meal and tipped it into my bucket, trying to mix them as gently as possible, since a wind was already lifting the fine powder into the air beyond my control.

Nina raised herself up, from where she had been lying in the sun, interested.

The powder was all over my gloves, and dusted up my arm when Nina came over to investigate. She circled with interest, sniffing continuously. It was in that moment that I wondered "have I made a great mistake?" I wondered if blood and bone mix swirling in the air would send Nina into a frenzied attack, like blood in the water for a shark. I imagined her gnawing my arm off to the shoulder, just crunching it like a big chicken wing dipped in tasty batter. 

For a moment there, organic gardening seemed to be an enormous risk.

I managed to wash my arm off, and set the bucket high out of reach. I quickly raked in the meal I had already spread in the garden, and then watered it in deeply. I continued with some less tantalizing organic fertilizer until a family member came home and kept an eye on Nina, keeping an eye on me, spreading what to her, smelled like a delicious treat. 

Risky business, this gardening stuff. 

Look For It

Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin...

Zechariah 4:10

Our culture is structured around articulating the desired end result, and then maximizing each moment in that direction for optimum success. Goals, Objectives, Strategies, Milestones, Markers, Achievements, all recognized ways in which we move forward to arrive at an ever changing destination of accomplishment and happiness. 

Today I was watering my new trees. I held the hose in one hand, and was scrolling through facebook with the other. As I let the hose soak my new apple, something tiny caught my eye.

The tree I planted one week ago, the tree that was dormant and bare, is extending the tiniest, fuzzy, silver gray leaves.

I pocketed my phone and went on a hunt around my mostly dormant garden, full of just-planted sleeping specimens.

 

The growth on a fig is like a fat knife piercing the stem.

 

Blueberries have already produced flower-like clusters of new leaves.

 

Tiny jagged raspberry leaves sit aloft the leaf litter.

Orange blossoms, delicate and fragrant, invite a closer look.

 

 

Lemon buds, swelling.

 

 

Not all the growth springs up easily, from undisturbed roots. This Salvia was unceremoniously ripped up by the roots, and given to me in a bag, by a neighbor. I cut it back, hoping it would live.

 

The dry and abused stem I planted is pushing out new leaves.

 

My Pomegranate

The pomegranate I planted with such loving care in the fall, was split down the main branch, when some tree guys dropped a limb on it. We taped the split, and I have been whispering success to the tree, and today, at the very tip of the main branch, this.

"Nothing is happening!" I've groaned to our friends about our foster care journey. "They are still acting up in the same way we've been working on for months!" I complain to my husband about various behaviors in our children. "Why is this not over yet?" I wail about a particularly harrowing journey with the IRS. 

Be still and know that I am God.

Psalm 46:10

I am being faithful with my little, and I know that God is being faithful with me. It sure is encouraging to see new life, emerging unexpectedly. God is faithful.

 

 

Baby Dreams and Apple Trees

Last night I had a dream. I was holding a wonderfully heavy, fat baby, with white, white skin. She was small enough to cradle in my arms, but long enough that her legs hung past my body. She was one, or maybe two years old.

In my dream we were caring for her temporarily, and then, in holding her, I realized "we can love her forever, she might not be the description we checked off on the form, but we love her." 

I had forgotten the deeply satisfying feeling of calming a fretting child, seeking the perfect position and tone and motion to soothe them, until they slump against you in surrender and calm. I like soothing children. My dream reminded me.

Today I helped a friend plant apple trees. A novice gardener, she asked many questions, completely unsure of how to proceed. We dug our holes, we assessed the trees' positions, we back filled and watered. At the finish, two fine trees stood handsome, upright and perfect.

I know things about nurture that are hard to pin to one profession or describe on a resume. "I can calm a crying child", listed as one of my strengths, or "I can plant a tree properly", as one of my skills. 

 

These are the two things I want right now - to find the child who is the missing puzzle piece in our family, and to help my own garden, and the gardens of others flourish.

Maybe I'll see that baby again tonight in my dreams, or maybe I'll dream of apple trees.

 

 

 

Why Grow? Why Not?

Living in Houston is part of our roughly five year plan focused on maximizing some specific areas of family growth and development. We are in this house we've bought, settling in and making it home, knowing that we'll only be here a few years before moving on. 

Each major decision comes with the teeter totter of is it worth it --- is it not? Will the amount of benefit we get in two years be worth the expense? Is the effort going to pay off? Will we get our money out of the investment?

Most trees take several years to really start fruiting. The first few years are about root development, and pushing energy into the tree's foundation. Even if the tree produced fruit right away, you are supposed to pluck it off and toss it away, to concentrate the energy into the roots.

Many gardeners have asked me "why are you planting fruit trees you won't harvest fruit from?", knowing that this garden will start to come in strong right about the time I am swinging the gate closed and walking away. 

Growing isn't all about the harvest. I mean, it is, and it isn't. Watching a dormant twig begin to swell and burst into a bud is a marvel, and seeing those first tiny bright green leaves push out in spring is amazing. When a leek seed germinates, and sends its green point knifing up through the soil, I feel a deep satisfaction.

Gardening isn't only about the end result. It is about the process of nurturing life, and being a witness and a partner to creation.

Parenting has been hard this last year. I've had to recalibrate my metric for success. Instead of a far off happy ending, all kids grown and peacefully settled into health and prosperity, I am focusing on the way I can chanel the energy of each day. I am watching each tiny bud swell and burst into life. I am doing my best to prune back unwanted growth, and train in a better direction.

Life has been hard this last year. In a roomful of joyful revelers, lifting their glasses in hope and anticipation, I looked at 2015 with my heart muttering "I just hope I make it". 

Planting a seed, planting a tree, raising a child, getting up in the morning, is not all about a promised bountiful harvest. It is about choosing to live, choosing to grow, choosing to hope, again, and again, and again.

I get my hands dirty, and blacken my knees kneeling on earth, dirt streaks my forehead after I swipe my hair aside, I hover over tiny sprouts and blooms, I hope. In each house, and each move, and each garden I've done it again and again. It is how I stay most alive. It is how I believe. I might not gather fruit from these trees, but tending them will fill my heart for the years I am here. 

The Urban Harvest Fruit Tree Sale 2015

This was my second year volunteering for Urban Harvest's annual Fruit Tree Sale. I think this was the 15th year of the sale? Last year I helped with the pre-sale lot plotting but didn't get to see the trees arrive or attend the sale. This year I really got to experience the whole thing.

First of all, the week before the sale, I helped run the registration table at one of the pre-sale lectures Urban Harvest offered. Isn't that a genius idea? Before you decide from the long list of varieties available, you can go to a live lecture detailing each tree and its merits, and ask all your questions. So much of successful growing is getting the right tree in the right spot, and when you buy immature trees, you sometimes don't realize you got that part wrong until several years down the road! The more you know before purchasing and planting, the better!

On Friday I helped set up. We gathered at Rice University at 7 am, and prepped the site for the trailers and trucks which arrived not long after. Then, hours of unloading commenced. My legs still tremble and threaten to give way when I try to stand up and sit down, and I whisper to my sore muscles "3,500 fruit trees" and give them a minute to steady.

Before the trees arrive

Initially I was part of a fire brigade style line, passing trees from the back of the truck, down the line to their designated sections. Sometimes I was the squatter on the end, taking the tree from the last standing person and placing it on the ground.

The first trailer arrives

 

My friend in the punishing squatter position at the end of the line

When the semi was being unloaded, the guys from the nursery needed another person in the truck to help move the trees towards the door where the volunteers could grab them. I offered to climb in. When the nursery guy gave me a hand up into the truck, his lift propelled my whole body flying through the air like a bird. I should have realized then, that my muscle, impressive as it is, would be sore after keeping up with those guys!

Each trailer and the semi was stacked triple high

As we got further towards the back of the truck, more and more people were needed inside to pass the trees forward. We came up with a system that really was the most fun I had all day, and maybe for quite some time. We all took positions squatting or on hands and knees. The person at the back slid the tree forward with a mighty shove, and the next person caught it and shoved it on, and so forth till it reached the door of the truck. The best part is when we were flinging trees one after the other, and they were whizzing by at great speeds, like some kind of botanic shuffleboard gone wild. Eventually two would collide, or one would fall, and the system would break down, but it sure beat walking back and forth carrying heavy trees from the front of a semi trailer to the door!

We did it!

After the trees were unloaded, the volunteer area was set up, as well as the check-out tents and tables for the cashiers, fences were built and check-out lines constructed, and pre-orders for volunteers tagged and pulled. I left with my van full of five rather large trees with just enough time to unload them at home and turn right around to get the kids from school. I had a mulberry branch poking me in the head each time I tried to check my blind spot.

After all that heavy lifting, I went home and planted the trees I had bought before I took a bubble bath, and fell asleep on the couch by 8 pm, while my husband and kids watched a movie.

Saturday we were back on site by 8 am, prepping for the line of customers that ran down two sides of the Greenbriar lot. Together with two experienced sellers and an enthusiastic student helper, I positioned myself at my post - Grapefruits and Pummelos - how perfect since I had just recently been singing their praises.

Ready for the crowds

The gates opened, and the first customers poured in, their little red wagons rattling on the pavement. During the course of the day I noted a clear distinction between the early buyers and the later buyers. People who are at the head of the line have been waiting, some for hours, like band fans at a ticket sales line. They streak past with their map in hand, headed toward a specific tree that has filled their garden fantasies. They will have it, they must have it!

In the early rush, the only people who stop for grapefruit and pummelos, are those who came for grapefruit and pummelos: they load quickly and press on to their next destination.

Later in the sale come the meanderers. People stopping to read the signs, people with lots of questions, and inquiring about general garden advice. Some pull out rough sketches, showing you their ideas, asking for input. Families with young children riding in their wagons, or strollers and wagons together. These shoppers might have a list, but they are also piling other things onto their wagon, captivated by the alluring promise of delicious and exotic fruit.

We sold everything in our section, noting what went first and when. After the sale we cleaned the whole thing up, as the numbers were tallied.

At the sale I got to catch up with friends I've made along the way, through Urban Harvest. We talked about our gardens, whether or not we were buying trees this year, and what is happening in our lives. I also made several new friends, cheerful and dedicated people who give hours of their time every year to invest in Houston in this way. Not to wax lyrical, but the spirit and grit of these volunteers, giving long hours of physically hard work, was really encouraging. 

Before the sale

My legs might still be wobbly, but I'll be back next year! 

 

 

 

Staying Married

Some time back, The Captain and I met a couple who were really cool, had three kids, and had been married 17 years. We were shocked because they seemed so cool! So young! We met them when our kids were practically babies. They really inspired me, that after seventeen years a marriage could still look vibrant, and engaged, even in the midst of parenting.

Fast forward to now. Like our friends, we married really young. Here we are, married 14 years with a pack of kids. We've both changed over time, as people do. Our relationship has highs and lows, exciting bits, and dry chapters. 

Deep down to my toes I am thankful, and absolutely in love with this man, even when there's nothing swoon worthy going on.

As you know, I'm an avid gardener. My husband has watched me plant garden after garden, only to walk away from my efforts as we move time and again. He has humored me in pouring not inconsequential amounts of money into pots and soil and seedlings, and has listened to hours of hopeful chatter about my tomato seeds sprouting, and my desire for a jam garden.

My partner works very hard at work and at home. He has the work ethic of three motivated people combined. On the weekend he likes nothing more than to sleep in, and have a quiet tea and toast (with Nutella and fresh raspberries) and a nap in the hammock, or to lose himself in one of the multiple books he reads simultaneously.  Yesterday he gave up his time and a grand amount of his money because he loves me well.

I have been trying to find a way to source this 16' foot agricultural panel for months. After trying unsuccessfully to hire multiple people to collect it from a distant farm supply center, I turned to my steady husband for help. He hired a truck, and drove the distance only to discover that the panel I had ordered earlier in the week wasn't there after all. He had them cut the 16' panels in half to fit in his 8' truck and hauled them home.

While he was away, I spent hours on other garden projects. I cut down some fence posts to make a small raised bed in which to plant one of the new fruit trees I'm ordering.

Today I got the panel hung. All 64 feet of it. I'll plant a variety of climbing edibles on it, and I'll even do some pumpkins supported by slings. I could have accomplished the same thing with a roll of fencing for a fraction of the cost, but I have been wanting this industrial gage panel because I love the look of it, even before anything grows on it.

I wouldn't call my husband a romantic or passionate man. As an INTJ, he shares his personality type with only about 2% of the world's population. He has an intellectual brilliance that I do not share. Yet I have capacity and strength in areas that lacks strength. Fourteen years in, I think he is absolutely amazing. At this very moment he is folding the laundry with our children while they watch a documentary about North Korea. 

Quite some time ago I went through a season where I was consistently disappointed that my husband didn't write me love letters (although he wrote great ones while we were dating), or plan elaborate sweep-me-off-my-feet dates, but over the years I have learned to recognize him loving me well, in his way. He brings me flowers for no good reason, because he knows I like that, even though they might not mean the same thing to him. On friday night he often starts our weekend by bringing a bag of delicious treats to share. As a father for our children, I could not dream of better. In matters of the garden, he opens his heart to me again and again, contributing to the thing that makes my heart sing. 

We are so very, very different, but we laugh at the same things, and notice the same obscure references and details. Ours is a life shared, and richer for the sharing. In the garden, I do the digging and dreaming, and he says "yes". In the end we sit outdoors together, eating the food I've grown, and enjoying the environment I have created, and we've both done our part, and nurtured each other in the process. For me, my garden is my own passion, but also a continual testiment to my partner's investment in who I am and what I care about. That's a pretty romantic thing, don't you think?

 

Patience in the Garden

Blooms are lovely, and fresh eats from the garden amazing, yet behind those moments of glory are hours and hours of hard work and patience.

Right now I'm having trouble with the patience bit.

Because we move so frequently, I've planted so many gardens, only to leave them before enjoying the real payoff that comes about three years into nurturing a garden. Right now I am walking around with my garden plan, and the product list for Urban Harvest's annual fruit tree sale, muttering "Pakistan Mulberry here or espaliered apples?" 

Year round gardening is possible here in Houston, so there are lots of things growing in my garden, but nothing looks amazing or abundant. I have to admit I've felt kind of bummed about that. This is a little post to remind myself where I started, and what I've accomplished so far in the last 4 1/2 months of being in this house. I'm just focusing on the back yard today. I'll talk about the front another time.

Here is a view of the back yard before we bought the house. There was a box hedge that you can see on the right. I cut that out with my handsaw. Along the back fence were Ligustrums that had grown into trees (as well as an Ash tree on the right). I cut most of the Ligustrums out myself and had our yard guys take out the rest. I had a tree guy remove the Ash.

Neglected back fence

 

 

Cleared back fence with bed started

Back fence today

Original side of garage

This is the side of the garage. No grass was growing, the soil is compacted, it was completely shaded, and this portion of the yard floods.

Side of garage bed built, flooding

Side of garage bed today

Side fence original

 Along this fence there is good sun, as evidenced by some grass growing.

Side fence today

So in addition to taking out the things I didn't want (which has been a slow journey), here's what I did.

I collected a van-full of concrete edgers from someone in my neighborhood. They are not my dream edges, but there was enough to build nearly all my raised beds, and FREE is my kind of price. Plus, they gave me a good workout that day.

 Next, I tore the tape off of ALL our moving boxes, and used them about 3 deep to create the bottom later of my raised beds. (Recycle, reuse, repurpose is the theme of this garden.)

Once the beds were made, and lined with cardboard, I took advantage of the construction happening on our street. I had the crew dump several piles of excavated soil from in front of my house onto my driveway, which I then deposited one wheelbarrowful at a time, into the beds. It's hard to get a sense of scale here. I probably put at least 12 hours of labor just filling the beds with this soil. Maybe more?

I moved two van loads of plants that had been hanging out at my old neighbor's, waiting for their new home.

We had a fence built that can support climbing plants.

Our developing fire circle

We had all the wood from the Ash stacked as firewood, and the tree guy cut us logs for stump seats around our fire pit, and cut everything he had in his truck already, into sections for our woodpile.

I have built three compost bins from wire fencing. The second is nearly full. I have been collecting the leaves from my yard in bags, and will let them rot over the winter to add to the beds in the spring.

Fruit Planted

• I built a raised bed alongside the opposite side of the garage that is a narrow, rather useless edge. It is my blackberry bed, a perfect spot actually, for a plant with some really intense thorns.
• The bed alongside the garage has a Pomegranate tree, a climbing rose, and strawberries
• Blueberries - There are five plants (three or four varieties?) in pots with 50% spagnum peat moss for acidity
• One fig is waiting to go in the ground
• One Meyer lemon in a pot
• One orange in a pot
• Papaya in a pot

Vegetables Planted

• Onions (red, white, and yellow)
• Beans just finishing
• Tomatoes still fruiting
• Heirloom Kale
• Several lettuces
• Carrots
• Silverbeet/Chard
• Artichoke

Herbs Planted

• Curry
• Rosemary
• Oregano (2 varieties)
• Various mints
• Lavender
• Dill
• Chives
• Rue
• Parsley

Because my soil is quite heavy clay, I topped is with some organic compost, and then planted a cover crop of red clover and daikon radish to improve the soil. In the spring I'll put the rotted leaves on. 

Because the soil is not the best, and because the plants are overcoming transplant shock, and because it's almost winter, everything is growing in millimeters rather than inches. Yesterday I sat outside feeling blue about the distance between where I want my garden to be and where I currently am. Of course there's a long way to go, and it's okay to dream forward, but I wanted to stop and remind myself of what I've already done. 

If you want more frequent peeks at what is happening in my garden, and gardens around Houston, you can like my Facebook page Sap and Green.

 

 

 

 

Finding Franny's Garden

Once in a while, in the midst of ordinary life, beauty jumps right out and grabs me. Recently I was driving in a nearby neighborhood, when I glanced across the street at a wonderfully happy garden. The arched cow panel trellises grabbed my attention (I have been searching Houston for cow panel), so I crossed the street, and marched up to the persimmon colored front door, and reached out to ring the bell before I chickened out.

I'm so glad I did. Behind the door I met Franny, a garden enthusiast, and instead of closing the door in my face, she stopped whatever she was doing to come out to give me a tour of her garden, and agreed to let me come back and photograph it to share with you. I feel I have to make the discalimer that I am no great photographer, and these pics won't be winning any awards, but I wanted you all to see what can be achieved in a fruitful and joyous garden in a regular American suburban block.

 The summer border gracing the front of the house is grounded with okra plants which are in the hibiscus family, have a stunning leaf, and may even boast a purple stem and fruit. Their flowers are lovely  and so they make a good ornamental plant in a garden design, as well as providing a crop. For me, the real show-stopper in this border is the cotton. Can you spot it?

I'm sure other gardeners can relate to the giddy excitement I felt as Franny plucked several bols of cotton for me to take home to try my hand at growing!

The front yard garden features three raised beds with the aforementioned cow panel arches supporting beans, tomatoes, and other tall growers. She has a mix of late summer and autumn plantings, and has the raised beds fitted with a drip irrigation system on a timer, and she also catches rainwater off the roof in a tank near the raised beds. These are the kind of nuts and bolts inclusions that gardeners really get excited about. (Tell me I'm not the only one!)

One of my favorite elements was this postbox, fixed to the edge of the bed for gloves, tools, and that random packet of seeds. How clever.

The other thing I loved down this end of the garden was a pairing of a pomegranate against a grapefruit. The reddening poms against the green globes were just stunning.

Franny's garden sits on a corner block, which turns many gardeners off as there are often city easements and restrictions limiting your growing space. Franny has actually done something really wonderful with her corner, turning it into a welcoming place where you can imagine neighbors stopping for a chat and a drink.

 A stone patio wraps around a fig in fruit, and potted citrus lend some height. A variety of seating  provides a place to settle in with a book. Perhaps one found in the Little Free Library (Take a Book, Leave a Book)? 

In the back yard, Franny's love of happy colors is really on display with yellows, reds, and oranges popping against the turquose pool. I was tempted to "trip" headfirst into the water, but I didn't.

 

Franny and I had a good laugh at the lengths to which she goes to get a good bucket of chicken or cow manure. While new mothers have a reputation for being poo obsessed, I reckon gardeners are equally so. We all have a corner in the potting shed or garage filled with this and that miracle additive to make our soil better.

After showing me her garden, Franny sent me home with some new seeds to try, as well as two cover crops to try on my dense, clay soil. Groundhog Daikon Radish, and Crimson Clover. My bols of cotton are proudly displayed on a cake stand in the center of my benchtop. 

But do you want to know the best part of the story? When I emailed Franny to coordinate a time to come take pictures, she casually mentioned her sister in Nashville...who turns out to be one of my friends! When we were planning this move to Houston, my Nashville friend consulted her sisters in Texas for recommendations on neighborhoods. Over a year before I gathered the courage to approach Franny's door, she had already helped my family in our move.

Isn't life amazing?

So, the moral to my story is, next time you see something beautiful, stop and admire it. Be brave to approach someone. You never know what it may lead to!

 

Tell me, have you ever approached someone out of the blue like this? Do you have a good story to share? Please do!

 

Tethered

If all goes according to plan, one month from now we will be spending our second night in our new house. The sound of my husband's voice reading stories to our children will be drifting down a different hall. In the night I'll wake up, and be unsure of where the door frame is, or how to find the bathroom or a glass of water. It will be some time before I can navigate, eyes nearly closed, a space that has become my own.

Tonight I walked the dog in our neighborhood, peering at the houses and their gardens, remembering seeing them for the first time. I remembered that feeling of being untethered, nearly a wisp to be blown away, so lacking connections and so unknown.

As I walked, I passed a neighbor and his dog. He told me about the Indian supper his wife had made that night, with heirloom tomatoes harvested from plants I gave them. Their verge garden overflows with lofty plants, fruit tumbling heavy on the vines, each tomato a warm, weighty, handful of joy. They have gotten out the canning supplies to manage a bumper crop. A crop sprung from seed that I planted and nurtured on my bedroom window in the winter sunlight.

When I planted all that seed, I didn't know who would harvest it. My heart craved generosity, and a community that shared its bounty. Sadly, my own tomato plants have made a lackluster attempt at fruit production, but my kitchen shelf is lined with luscious tomatoes from my neighbors.

It's hard to start again. It's hard to leave a place I've grown to love. I comfort myself with the thought that this next house will be the last house for several years, and likely the only Houston house. "The next move will be back to Australia, and professional movers will do all the packing" I tell myself as I wrap another wine glass in layers of paper and pop it in the box.

In the meantime, a trip to Europe awaits, a great family adventure! And then we'll turn our energies to creating yet another home, and filling it up with the kind of life we want to live.

 

 

Permaculture at the Houston Arboretum

Yesterday I had the pleasure of spending a long pleasant day at the Houston Arboretum, learning from Joe Blanton, the Adult Programs Director. I am weeks away from finishing my year long course, leading to my certification as a Permaculture Designer. I have enjoyed the program, (run by Urban Harvest) and the friends I have made along the way.

One highlight is when we spent some time observing a small man made pond, and had to list the design errors and solutions to those errors. How delightful to realize that I could identify a number of them, and knew ways to improve the problems with the pond. We've been taking in so much information all year long, it is a little thrilling to then realize it is at the ready for me to use!

In a second pond we enjoyed watching fish, turtles, frogs, and a heron. It was a bit like those magic posters from when I was a kid - the longer you stare, the more you see, until you realize the whole place is humming with life and energy, and you might not have known if you didn't stop to look.

This week my cousin sent me a link to a video where a gardener, who is also an evangelical Christian, starts gardening utilizing a heavy mulch cover, and it completely transforms the health and vitality of his soil (without watering or fertilization!). Watch the video here. At the arboretum, I took interest in the trails that were simply a thick wood chip mulch. I could easily move some top mulch aside to discover moist, rich earth below, even in an area of heavy traffic and no irrigation.

Non-gardening readers, I won't be offended if you all walk away for the rest of this post (she's just talking about dirt?!). Gardening readers, if you just got a little shiver down your spine thinking about gardening without watering or fertilizing, I know!

I really enjoyed getting to see all the native flowering plants and abundant blackberries and mulberries. One of my friends showed me how you can crush the leaf of the cherry laurel and it actually smells like maraschino cherries! The lovely flowers of the dogwood, on the other hand, smelled horrid. You don't have to look hard for a lesson there!

Right next to the nature center are two of the largest crepe myrtles I have ever seen. Can you believe them?

 Next week will be my last class, and we'll be working on a nature restoration project, increasing the health of a spring fed creek. They said to come prepared to get muddy, which sounds like my kind of day! Finding Urban Harvest and enrolling in this course has been such a vital part of me feeling like I have a place and something to do here in Houston. If you're local and want to learn more about gardening organically, they have an amazing array of classes! 

These days I feel like I just can't get enough time in the garden. In my garden I find quiet within my heart, and my inner world comes into calm and order that I can then carry out into my life. What does the garden do for you?