If nothing else, let it be known that I am great at yardwork. If you need weeds pulled, bushes trimmed, grass mowed...well, okay, so I've only mowed a yard once. But if you need detail work done, I'm good, and I don't mind getting sweaty as long as you have something frozen and fruity for me to sip afterward in a bubblebath.
But when it comes to creating a Yarden from a whole lot of nothing, that's pretty new to me. Looking back on it all, I've always had a yard around to dig in. I'm fairly decent with a windowsill and a master at office-plants-turned-houseplants. But don't let me near an orchid, or it's curtains. Sure, I'm better at planting bulbs in a yard than watering plants on a porch. But as usual, I'm always up for a challenge.
I've done a quick research on this apartment complex I've moved into, and turns out it was built in the early 1920's. The architecture and carved details are still beautiful after all these years. It looks like it was bought and partially restored in about 1983. It also looks like someone planted four Bradford pear trees in the courtyard that are the biggest ones I've ever seen. Makes me wonder what makes this piece of land here so fertile or potent to grow trees like that to the size of these.
Somewhere along the 80's, someone dragged this half of an oak barrel up here and started a plant of standard English ivy in it. It's grown up the wall once, and through the railing, into the gutters. Fine with me. In fact, it helped me decide which apartment to choose of the two I looked at here. I stuck one of my iron plant cages in it, swirled in a strand of Christmas lights, and called it *whimsical garden art.*
It's a low-light condition up here on the second floor, but it's more light than the downstairs porch. So let's see what happens this year if I try a grape tomato plant in one of my big pots.
As far as tomatoes go, I cannot get anything special, exotic, or heirloom to grow in a container yet. I've brought home beautiful and delicate, little green hand-picked hopefuls and wilted them silly within a month. So, before the the American Society for Cruelty to Heirloom Tomato Plants heard about me, I decided to be kind and start smaller.
I usually start with a Bonnie's tomato plant because they are easy to find at a local Lowe's which works out great for my level of experience and patience hauling newly-purchased plants up two-flights of stairs; and in the past few years that I've grown tomatoes in containers, and used Bonnie plants, they've gone wild, producing tall. toppling plants that needed staking with big handfuls of grape tomatoes, without any extra effort from me. Maybe I'm just lucky and maybe tomato plants thrive best on the smell of fear.
Funny thing is, I'm not even crazy about tomatoes. But for some reason, I love trying to grow them. It's got to be the Southern woman in me. It's alright if you just don't tell anyone until I'm good at it. One day.
Another thing I like about choosing tomato plants is reading the variety names.
To me, they all sound like either wrestlers, exotic dancers, or superheros.
Tell me that's not fun.
So anyway, this weekend I'll be driving home for a doctor's appointment and to visit my mom. That woman could grow ferns in a snowstorm. She's one of the reasons I even started this blog last year, helping her clear out her own yard and start it all over again for another season. So as far as planning goes, I'll be looking to her for suggestions, and I'll haul them back to Memphis with me and get started.
I'm not sure she'd like the whimsical Christmas garden lights, but hey -- you've gotta start somewhere.
