This year has been more unique than most unique years.  And not just in regards to the weather, although the early spring has played with my emotions, infusing me with a special kind of gardener’s guilt for not being in the garden before it is my usual time to be in the garden.  The uniqueness of my year stems from the fact that I am now a proud entrepreneur of an exciting business called Bring the Farm to You.  Being about farming, one would think that my business days would be spent in the garden and otherwise around the land.  But the nuances of setting up the structure of curriculum, marketing, finances, insurance, etc. have not been so giving of my time.  And sadly, the garden has been neglected.

In a usual unique year, the garden might be patiently waiting for me.  But the early spring gave a jump to the plants who have celebrated with a romp throughout my garden beds.  Some of them have taken such a liking to the space that they give one the impression they might just move in for good.  And the neighbors probably think all kinds of sad and interesting things, wondering what happened to the usually beautiful space on the top of Moody Rd. and the girl who usually tends it.  The brick walkway is lush with volunteer chamomile, an old scarecrow, missing his head, waves a tattered shirt in the wind, and strawberry plants hide deep below chickweed and thistle.  It looks like that garden at the spooky old house in my daughter’s detective books.

Well my friends, the garden waits for no man…or in my case, no woman.  To some this infusion of wildness is daunting, but to me, it only solidifies my determination!  As I look out on the ragged and rangey garden from my office perch, I know what I must do – plan!  My virgo temperament will have it no other way. 

A map, a checklist, and a schedule will surely transform my perception, altering my vision as if through rose colored glasses.  Piecing up that space into manageable sections – Sequoia’s sandbox garden, the place where the bench will sit, rows and squares and circles laid out in pretty patterns and labeled with the names of things I like to eat and love to grow – that’s what makes it feel doable, and inspires my determined labor.  I can brave my spooky old garden on Moody Rd and I can certainly find time to weed that first 5×5 area before dinner!  And that will motivate me to tame the next section and the next until my garden retreat has returned and the weeds have packed their bags for the compost pile.

With a garden plan in hand, come hell or high water, I will have tomatoes this year!  It may not be until September, as it appears that the greenhouse also waits for no man….or woman…