And so it begins

I don't remember a time when I didn't garden.  As a child, I remember walking barefoot in my parent's garden after they tilled.  I remember planting seeds without knowing what I was planting.

In college, at my first apartment, I planted a tomato in the landscaping strip.  I did it without asking for permission.  No one said a word.  I got a nice crop of tomatoes and made salsa that year.  Then in the first house I rented, I planted tomatoes and green bell peppers.  Again, without permission.

Gardening makes me feel hopeful.  Harvesting makes me feel secure.

Another bonus, when my daughter was young I let her help as much or as little as she wanted.  She ate sugar snap peas and cherry tomatoes off the vine.  She dug carrots.  She packed veggies for canning.  She was never picky about veggies and I think gardening and canning are part of the reason why.  

Now I have a new garden.  New extremely fertile soil.

It's early March in the Pacific Northwest.  There is still a chance of frost (even snow) plus warmer days. I planted peas, arugula, radishes, broccoli, romaine lettuce and beets.  Everything but the peas are under portable green houses.