My pre-stroke career revolved around a 100’ x 24’ greenhouse.
I grew thousands of annual and herbs. Hanging baskets blossomed and trailed overhead.
My favorite activity in the greenhouse involved combining plants in containers. I compare it to painting with flowers. Doesn’t that sound fun?
Fun, and extremely satisfying to my artsy-fartsy side.
When I left the hospital in his late September 2011, I doubted I’d ever garden again.
Today: how does my garden grow?
With the help of my innovative husband, I have a lovely over-productive veggie garden here in the top soil-poor Arkansas Ozarks.
The garden is a symphony of creative adaptation: I grow most of my personal favorites in a 3’x 8’ livestock tank riddled with drainage holes filled with gravel, sand, topsoil, and compost.
This spring I harvested lettuces, spinach, dill, and French green beans. The zucchini is just beginning to come off.
Several other cool tools help as well.
A collapsible stool makes weeding on the ground possible (all the bending over and straightening up of conventional weeding makes for tipsy stumbles in the garden). A lightweight water hose helps with watering the areas without soaker hoses such as my nephew’s watermelon patch.
New, this year are the Tater- tires. Landfill-destined tires full of topsoil, planted with red, Yukon gold and sweet potato starts.
Yes, they are a tad hillbilly. My eco-conscious daughter not only approves but painted them in vibrant unnatural colors. They are productive garden art. She harvested her first crop of potatoes last week.
My reward for handpicking and destroying hordes of potato beetles is a portion of the harvest.
In the past three years I’ve determined with time and healing, I can do anything I set my injured brain to.
In time, all will work out just peachy or all corny or all tomatoey
Lida just managed an almost Rocky-caliber fist pump!