An Organic Urban Yard in Less Time Than a Sit-Com

We’ve finally arrived at the rose garden stage of gardening. I used to think that only gardeners with a certain amount of experience and maturity could grow roses. It seems that we’ve arrived at this point, after 25 years of gardening, sort of by surprise– a little bit like the surprise one feels when one finally concedes that perhaps one is middle-aged. Hmmm…
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It’s the time of year when we could almost live in the garden. Almost. Certainly not when it’s raining and/or storming, which has happened quite a lot so far this summer. Not during the 10am until 2pm window, when pale Jim and even not-so-pale me would likely fry under the directly overhead sun. Or when the mosquitoes are bad, which they are this summer as a result of all the rain. But other than those times, we’d certainly like to be spending a lot more time outside in the garden.

If it wasn’t for the House.
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A quick peek in the composter reveals a slightly soggier but still fairly intact Old Straw Hat.

Patience, my pretty.

Jim’s straw gardening hat has seen better days.

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Earlier this week, I successfully engaged in some good, old-fashioned bartering with my teen-aged daughter. She was hoping for a ride — another ride– somewhere, and promised an exchange: she would take a couple dozen pictures of anything in the garden with her new digital camera, and I would transport her to her destination.
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