Watermelon Radish

This is not really a recipe but sometimes the obvious options need restating for you to remember the crisp truth. The lesson this week is that everything, and I mean EVERYTHING is better with butter.

We received a watermelon radish in our farm box a few weeks ago from EdibleEarthscapes. I must admit that radishes are not things that I have felt strong reactions for previously. I think they're lovely in their little round easter egg colors and I don't mind them thrown into salads or as little pickles. But I don't get too excited about eating them. They seem like a side dish or an afterthought. Definitely not something that requires center stage.

I'm starting to change my mind about radishes though. The watermelon radish was so beautiful. Greenish white on the outside, fushia on the inside with little spokes radiating out. Something to showcase it's loveliness was required but what? My husband wanted to just eat it raw as is but I like to fiddle with things a little bit before I eat them. We were having a little soiree so we used them as an appetizer. We slathered butter and then a little sea salt dashed on top for flair. The were all dressed up (and disappeared quickly).

Incidentally, on the plate beside them are cucumber slices with pickled ginger and daikon pickles. The daikon is another kind of radish we received from the farm that has me very intrigued. I julienned them and then salted them, squeezed out the water and then put them in a brine of salt and sugar for about 12 hours. They stink up the fridge righteously but they provide this crisp little garnish that makes the stink worthwhile.

Memorial Day

I've been very interested in CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) for several years but never quite got around to doing the research to join one. I kept telling myself that it was ok. I was too busy. It didn't make me a bad human to buy produce wrapped in plastic and carted in from somewhere else. I seemed to always have a few too many things to take care of to get around to finding a source of local produce or connecting with a specific farmer. We did move, build a fence, organize a new house, have baby no. 2, etc so there was a lot going on. Last year we went to at least one farmer's market every weekend and grew a cherry tomato along with our usual mix of herbs. We shared our cherry tomatoes with the neighborhood when we became flooded and I was not a bad human. But, I was not the best human that I could be in my suburban paradise and I pined for more of a connection between garden and food.

This winter, I made it a priority to join a CSA. I paid my deposit and then waited for spring to arrive. Not very patiently but as patiently as my genetic make-up will allow. I checked my farm's website religously looking for the signs that the magic was beginning and told every person I spoke with (sometimes multiple times) about the CSA we joined. Our farmer's are Jason and Haruka from Edible Earthscapes . The produce listed on their site ranges from solidly normal to exotic and unknown. I was afraid for a while that I was annoying them to death with questions and just over the top exuberance. Fortunately, they still seem to like me-at least they don't visibly cringe when I show up on Saturday mornings to collect my box.

We're now on our third box of goodies from Edible Earthscapes and I've been remiss in not posting earlier. I am overwhelmed and overjoyed with the abundance that greets me each week in my box. This week we got butter lettuce, turnip greens, romaine, watermelon radish, daikon, basil, cilantro, and peas!! A lot of the ingredients we get from the farm are not items I would usually make so it's really forcing me outside of my comfort zone. I'm doing a lot of research online for recipes each week and have a renewed appreciation of bloggers and useful forms of technology in general.

While I will post recipes eventually, I would like to take a moment and reflect on the emotional and spiritual connection that seems to deepen each week between me and my, well...produce. When I was little, I lived with my maternal grandparents on-and-off and spent at least a few days each week with my paternal grandparents. My grandparents were avid gardeners and maintained a connection to food, a disdain for waste and a penchant for 'make-do' that seems indicative of their generation. Both sets of my grandparents ALWAYS planted a Victory garden and would still find a way to justify stopping by a pick-up truck piled with corn on the side of the road if the price was right and the corn was sweet. My grandfather could become downright verbose about peaches (and country ham) and there was always a strong debate between my grandfathers on the the merits of tomato varieties (German Johnson usually won).

I have vivid memories of 'putting up' plums, shucking corn, shelling peas-with my relatives all around laughing, chattering or singing. I can close my eyes and feel the breeze off the back yard coming through the screen doors in mid-July after a day spent romping through the pasture in search of blackberries for cobbler while my grandmother combed through my sunkissed hair looking for ticks. I remember how excited my grandmother was when the persimmons were ripe or when the pecans at the church fell. There always seemed to be some kind of produce that needed work and always people who were glad to take some of it. Jams or nuts or canned goods were my grandparents equivalent to giftcards-everyone likes them and no one will turn them down. So gardening, eating, and love have always been viscerally entwined for me in a way that our industrial lives lack.

I find myself regretting that my son won't ever be able to just ramble un-chaperoned until the fireflies come out or wind up in the creek face-to-face with a snake of unknown pedigree and have to figure out the best escape route. He's unlikely to walk under the apple tree for his sister because she's afraid of the yellow jackets and fish out the best apple for her or to climb the spry cherry trees to get the tart little pink balls before the birds can scavenge them away. I find myself finding ways to recreate those same langourous summer memories within the context of our suburban, year-round school, two parents who work, life-for myself as much as for my kids.

When we walk the greenway beside our house, I point out the blackberry vines with their green nubs just starting to show. I show them poison oak (the first and most important plant to learn to ID) and talk about how allergic my brother always was to it but how my dad and I never get it. I show them how to suck the juice out of honeysuckle and teach the oldest the names of trees that we walk by. But it's been more difficult to recreate the way working for and with your food translates into a further love and appreciation for our non-monetary wealth. That is, it was more difficult until the addition of the farm box to our lives.

Each Saturday morning we pile into the car as soon as we can to go and get the box before the sun is too hot. We eat breakfast surrounded by people who produce food locally and are genuinely enjoying the connection to the other folks at the market. We go around the market and pick out bread, eggs, cheese, seafood, and more produce (how can that be!!!). We talk to new friends we've met at the market and old friends we've convinced to come out. The kids dance a little bit to the live music and sometimes we engage in a little modern day retail shopping at the mall to keep from having to run around again afterwards burning more gas.

When we get home, I spend the next 3 hours engaging in the ritual of unloading and sorting and cleaning and bagging and sometimes just fidgeting with the produce. I go through what we'll make, I show my kids all the interesting things that come along with organic produce (slugs!) and talk about how things are grown. There is a change occuring that is slow but powerful within my house because of that white cardboard box. My son ate turnips last week. Granted, they were in a cherry sauce but still!

Mostly though, I'm reconnecting to the way food-the growing, the prepartion, the creativity-can translate into the expression of love and affection for each other. We linger over dinner more often now. We ate around our table (not our kitchen island) 5 times last week. We've had people over for meals more often lately. In general, we are expanding into better human beings-the ones that we know we should be but can never quite find the time to be.

We got peas this week in the box-fat, juicy, crisp little pods that are just begging to be crunched. While I took of the stiff bits on the ends I could almost feel my grandmother's tan, lined hands swiftly working beside me while she jabbered on about a funny joke she heard at church. I think I will be finding the time for a CSA from now on.

Charleston Weekend

On a weekend in November, our little family made the jaunt down to Charleston, SC. Despite our relative proximity to Charleston, none of us had ever visited Charleston before and we were all anticipating quite an adventure. We drove down with both kids on Friday night so we'd be ready to start the day on Saturday. We explored Patriot's Point, the Aquatic Center and strolled through the White Gardens. We took in the views over the water, drove into Mt. Pleasant and tried to be as touristy as possible with 2 small children in tow. We found Charleston to be charming and proud in the way only old southern ladies can be-well-dressed, well-heeled, and welcoming to all who show up asking for a glass of sweet tea. As a southerner, I know that those sweet old ladies are made of steel too so don't push your luck! Most establishments were very welcoming to us and our kids so we made the most of it. From my perspective though, Charleston is a city of food that feels like it was built by and for the sole delight of foodies. The wealth of choices and the quality of the food in Charleston is like no other small city I have visited-except maybe in Italy.


I promised my sweet husband that I intended to eat my way through Charleston and I did not disappoint him. I can still remember his face when I asked if he was ready to eat again about 2 hours after eating a gianormous lunch. That's long enough right? I just wanted a snack....here's a list of our favorite meals while in Charleston.


82 Queen

After our introductory carriage tour, we decided to eat lunch at 82 Queen. Tucked in the middle of a block of historical houses, 82 Queen is easy to miss but what a mistake you would be making! You can read all about the history of the house, the awards and the staff on their website. However, you only need to know that the food is incredible. Even more interesting, I found that my children were incredibly comfortable in the restaurant (maybe because it was more like a house with individual rooms and pockets) than like a restaurant. We went for lunch and enjoyed every morsel of food that touched our taste buds. For an appetizer, I shared a crab cake with my son that was probably the best crab cake of my life to date. It was pure, tasty crab without a lot of filler or spice. Just enough flavor to heighten the sense that this crab was a creature of the surf. For my entree, I had Grilled Pesto Encrusted Mahi Mahi over creamy grits and fried green tomatoes. I sometimes feel that Mahi Mahi is overrated as a fish to eat while out because it is usually flavorless and/or overdone. This mahi mahi was tender and fresh, sweet and succulent. The grits were actually creamy and the fried green tomato was sweet (if a little small-no surprise given the season). My husband enjoyed a salad of baked asparagus, tomato and fresh mozzarella wrapped with Tasso ham. I tried this salad and it was good but nothing could break through the hold that crab cake had over me! For his entree, my husband chose low country jambalaya which managed to be sweet, smokey and slightly spicy all at once with chucks of seafood and peppers.


Sermet's Corner

I have to admit that Sermet's corner was not a first pick. We really only ate there because we couldn't get a reservation at FIG. However, it turned out to be one of our favorite meals. Sermet's food is very good but the real benefit for us turned out to be the atmosphere. There was a nice mix of locals with a few tourists. The ceilings were high, the atmosphere was relaxed and the seating was comfortable. When we arrived, our kids were famished and tired from walking all day. My son ordered a burger and received a huge patty of ground beef on a buttered bun the size of his head. He managed to eat most of it and then plow through dessert-a layered cheesecake concoction. I took several website's recommendations and ordered the lavender, honey and black pepper marinated pork tenderloin over a cheese infused polenta. I have to say that I enjoyed the pork but I doubt I will order it again. Lavender is my favorite scent and I associate laundry, clean bathrooms and ice cream (don't ask) with it. I do not associate lavender with meat or savory tastes and this dish did not change that preference. I don't recall what my husband had for supper but we would definitely go back to Sermet's corner next time we're in Charleston.

S.N.O.B
By far, the jewel in the crown of the culinary weekend. S.N.O.B (Slightly North of Broad) is just....well it's almost too much to speak of. The atmosphere is chic but cozy. The staff is some of the most gracious, welcoming staff I've ever encountered at a restaurant. To a person, they all seemed to want every patron to feel welcomed and comfortable. The food. Oh the food just defeats my description skills. I had trigger fish with a lemon sauce and pea shoots for my main course. To explain more about that dish-how the nutty crunch of the pea shoots perfectly complemented the smooth dent of the fish with the sweet tang of the lemon just peaking in at the edge of the bite. Well, it's not nearly as clear as I wish to make it-like saying Rachel Weisz is pretty.

So, I'm defeated on my description of the food at S.N.O.B and I'm sorry that I can't say more. Just GO THERE if you are ever in Charleston. And if you go there, try very hard to be as gracious and welcoming as the staff. S.N.O.B has a children's menu and the staff are very friendly and accommodating to children. Our kids were exceptionally well behaved that night but several patrons were downright rude to us (at 5pm!!) that we would bring children to such an austere place as S.N.O.B.

I have one and only one complaint about Charleston-the central part of the city is running low on locally owned coffee shops or bakeries. We did find a small place near the Market (Paradiso) and another place (Kudu) near the college but you will not hear me expounding on the virtues of Charleston's coffee. There are a couple of cookie or cupcake shops but they could really use a little French bakery or patisserie with an espresso machine. I had to make do with the favorite national chain but since their food is terrible, it wasn't as satisfying as I would like.

Long time gone....

Ok, so the title is also a song from one of my absolutely favorite bands. A group of uppity working mothers who get in trouble for their outspoken opinions and are recognized for their musical ability. I thought it was an appropriate intro for someone who's been MIA for more than an entire year. Where have I been? I've been around and I've been busy-just not busy blogging. Or gardening. Or cooking. But busy living and adding to life.

For starters, the whole family went to Tuscany for 14 days during the summer. I finally managed to make it off the North American continent and took everyone else with me. That experience was so wonderful that I'm not sure I can share it in such a public forum-even a year after. Does that seem odd? Maybe I'll be able to share with a larger audience after I go on my second international trip. For now, it seems like a wonderful dream. Part of me is afraid that we won't get to do it again despite plans shaping up now to visit Germany within the next 12 months.

Even though I was in a culinary mecca, with my husband and my son-I still managed to lose weight. How is that possible? Well, it probably had something to do with the bun in my oven. See, I was in Italy, my dream of dream vacations and I was 9 weeks pregnant! When I'm pregnant (and for several months after giving birth), I am always reminded of Flowers for Algernon. If you've read it, you get exactly what I mean here. If you haven't then you should go ask one of your early English teachers how they feel about failing you so profoundly. Anywho...a newly mothered or very pregnant me is literally incapable of cooking. The thought processes involved are too much for me. The planning and the chopping and the mechanics of the stove....well, if I do muster up the energy, the results are haphazard and sometimes dangerous. I avoid too much in depth cooking while preggers or with a small baby. Much less cooking and then writing it down and including pictures. Hah! It would take about 6 months just to get one blog post together.

Right around Christmas we became a happy family of four and I'm slowly returning to myself in the cathartic process called 'getting more sleep'. I am discovering some new traits as I become reacquinted with myself. See, when you have a baby you effectively loose yourself in the growing and care of that little person. You are so removed from the 'you' that you've created (assuming that the normal you is a showering, clean-clothing wearing, socially inclined person at all) that you can put yourself back together in new and exciting ways. Since having my daughter, I've discovered a whole new depth of femine tastes that have been latently existent within myself. I actually like (some shades of) pink now and *gasp* will put on makeup now. I have silly daydreams about shopping with my future teenage daughter for prom. I wonder if she will actually want to take dance and whether I want her to take it. (For reference, I was forced to take dance, be a cheerleader, and enter pageants at a fairly early age. I rebelled as a teenager and young adult and refused to curl my hair or wear lipstick for a decade. Not because I don't like the way I look but because I wanted to be SURE that you were my friend/spouse etc for what was inside of me instead of the outside. In short, I made myself as unattractive physically as I was able to prove a point. ) Now I feel the point is proved. I can move on. However, I wonder where this new mother daughter thing will take me as it has already reintroduced me to the joy of accessories.

Ok, so I digress. The point is that I'm back! Not with a vengeance or in fact, with a recipe. But back with a raspberry and the promise of more later.....

Yard art

I've had several requests for updated yard pictures (from people who saw the yard THEN and are wondering why I'm so beat up looking on Monday). I've said it before that it takes some imagination to 'see' what it will look like in 2 years but it's making me happy.

Front yard (beside porch) The first picture and this one are different veiws of the same bed. Full of camellia, lorapetalums and spirea with some annual/herbs for color.

Other side of porch:. There actually a hydrangea in the bed closest to the house with lorapetulums. On the outside of the fence, there's a perennial bed with Rosemary, Lychnis (Rose Campion), assorted daylilies and Scabiosa (Pincushion flower). I also planted Sweet Peas but they got hit pretty hard with frost.

From the sidewalk (notice the tent-we camped out recently for E.'s birthday). A bridal wreath spirea with cherry laurels as handmaidens. There's a Knock-Out rose and a Beauty berry bush down the line.

The long view of the side yard:
Nothing too exciting here. We ran out of steam and have to put down about 2 more trucks of mulch before I can transplant a cherry tree and put in a bunch of perennials. There is a lovely red cutleaf Japanese maple in this bed but it's pretty puny.

Turning the corner:
On the inside of the fence there are shasta daisies, echinacea (Purple coneflower), Asters, and black-eyed susans (and a Rosemary and some sage)

Suburban Island

I spent the weekend mucking around in my teeny, tiny yard. I was happily sorting and digging and weeding and just imagining the glory of this yard in a few years. I was also watching the reaction of the people walking by to see if my yard actually looks like a masterpiece in progress or if it looks like a hot mess in need of a good clean up instead. My ability to self-delude is mammoth so occasionally I like to gauge my perspective by observing others. Not that the opinions of anyone else will have an ounce of impact on the direction this garden is going. I just want to know if I’m the Weirdo on the corner with the wacked out landscaping or if I’m the Hipster on the corner using plant material as my palette. Judging by most facial expressions, I’m neither avant garde nor batty-just doing a good job. I choose to believe their lack of vision revolves the strategic placement of dinosaurs, swords, and diggers my son has left as yard sculpture.

Anyway, while I was mucking around in my teeny, tiny yard and being unusually persnickety about the placement of plants, I mused about the differences between this yard and my last yard. (the picture above is my old back yard when it was new. To clarify, it's about a third of my old back yard and it's before I planted the entire jungle). With my last yard, a trip to the nursery was a cavalier spending spree. A little of this, a dash of that-there was room for all of it. If I wasn't sure it would work, I'd just put it in the backyard where no one could see behind the 7 foot tall privacy fence. With our new house, we are public in a big way. Our fence is only 36 inches high and we are smack on one of the busiest corners in our neighborhood. As an additional barrier, our house has a Charleston feel to it that demands some southern charm when working on the garden. It is pretty important that I stick to a palette, that I make good choices regarding mature size, and that the adolescent years aren't too painful. I backed away from several favorite plants this weekend at the wholesale nursery and I almost tackled my husband to keep him from purchasing some big trees just because he likes the look of them. (Thank goodness he's not like this about pets.) All the constraints made me think about the desert island theme Lindy at Toast used in October. If you were marooned on a desert island and could only have 10 foods, what would they be? Since there is very little difference between gardening and eating to me, I nicely transitioned to "If you were stuck in a Suburban Island and could only have a few plants, what would those plants be?" Several hours later, I had a long list going in my head while I pulled up dandelions.

Didn't I already make this list when I moved and plopped snippets into my two big pots? Yes. And, er, no. I knew I would have access to plant material once I moved so I was only taking the comforting or the extra-specials that I had little chance of finding at a commercial nursery. What I began to list in my head were plants that my yard would just not be complete without. Plants that leave a hole in my heart if I had to eliminate them from my garden forever. And plants that I wished more people would grow instead of reaching blindly for the Helleri holly or the gardenia.

Now, I know these plants will not put me into the cool gardener club. In fact, some other bloggers (who I enjoy reading and whose opinons I value) will consider some of my required plants pretty passe'. But, I also like cool whip (despite it’s disturbing ingredient list) and refuse to read another Jodi Picoult book no matter how much my book club insists that it is the selected book this month and we HAVE to read it. I like what I like. These are the plants that are vital to my existence and I see no reason to snub them:

#1. Rosemary
If I could only have one plant and one plant only, it would be rosemary. Rosmarinus officinalis to be exact. There are lots of members of the Lamiaceae family that I enjoy but rosemary is the preferred family member for both aesthetic and practical reasons. I love the evergreen-gray of the foliage and the shock of blue-violet flowers that erupt suddenly and then disappear. I love the tenacity that allows me to clip it and clip it and clip it and still thrive as its ssquare stemmed spikes reach for the sun. I love little pots of rosemary on the table and large bushes of rosemary spidering around flowers. I love a sprig of rosemary in pocket or on bread. I love to inhale the smell of rosemary fresh-picked in the morning or to catch a whiff of it on the breeze in the evening. In short, there is NO WAY that I do not love Rosemary.

Versatility should be rosemary 's middle name. There are hundreds of uses for it. In a landscape it can be used as winter annual, a perennial accent, topiary, or a small shrub. It will be satisfied in a pot or happy planted in the ground (provided you it keep it evenly moist but not soaked). In the kitchen you can use rosemary in any course, at any meal. It is great in bread, perfect on chicken, delightful tossed in salads AND in can even hold it's on in dessert (I dare you to give rosemary gelato a try). Apparently rosemary has some medicinal properties too. In my current teeny tiny yard, I have 8 rosemary plants. I'm not sure that's enough but I may have to be satisfied with it for now.


#2. Camellia (japonica)
On Mother’s Day Sunday, it is traditional (where I’m from) to wear a blossom to church on Mother's Day Sunday in honor of your mother. If your mother is living, you wear a red or a pink blossom. If your mother has gone on to the ever-after, you wear a white blossom. Some people actually buy these blossoms from the super market. I am disturbed by the idea of buying an orchid wrapped in plastic from a chain in the same way that hothouse tomatoes bother me. Perfectly shaped, perfectly packaged, blemish free bits of boring. My Mother’s Day blossom was hand selected from my great-Aunt L.’s yard and pinned on with a safety pin. (My childhood weekends were always spent with my fabulous great-Aunt L. and I walked to church with her on Sunday mornings. And yes, every weekend was spent with her-including Mother’s Day weekend.) If we were having an especially cool spring, her Camellia bush would be loaded to the hilt with bodacious, red flowers that seemed as big as my head. I would insist on the biggest, usually dripping with dew and would march proudly to church feeling like a sophisticated lady. In my new yard, I have planted two Camellias and if they grow slowly (which they usually do) I shouldn’t have to pull anything out of that bed for 5 years or so. By that time, something will have died probably so I won’t have to pull anything out. One of my camellias is a bodacious red C. japonica and the other is a mysterious C. sasanqua (smaller leaves, usually smaller blooms). Now if I could just get to church....

#3. Hydrangea

I think all beds look a little better with a hydrangea thrown in. Any hydrangea will do for me-I like all types. Pink, blue, purple, white, green. I even like that new maroon kind with purple leaves. Hydrangeas are a nice combo of austere Southern charm and trumped up floozy. They make great cut flowers, humming-birds like (some of) them and they're just plain easy to grow. The only complaint I’ve witnessed (in other people) is a inclination to go mucking around with lime or other soil amendments to adjust their color. I like to just plant them and see what God gives me. According to my landscape plan, I should only have 1 hydrangea but since I like hydrangea more than I like viburnum, I have substituted. I’m hoping I can stop at four but no promises.


#4. Pansy

I adore pansies. I think of them as the Rachel Ray of the flowering annuals and they are apparently just as divisive. You either LOVE them or you LOATHE them. They are consistently my favorite annual and I am unable to envision a winter without their little flat-faced heads. I am happiest with purple and yellow combinations but really have never met a pansy I didn't like. I even enjoy the tackiness of mass plantings in front of shopping centers or neighborhoods although I prefer them on the smaller scale. Maybe it's because they bloom in the winter when everything else is sleeping. Maybe it's because they are just so dang perky and resilient. I know there are areas where pansies don't make it through but they can weather just about anything an NC winter can throw at them. A few days of looking tired and then the sun comes out and up pops the pansies. Pansies don't really require tons of fertilizer or fiddling which is another plus (since I forget to do that stuff pretty often-especially in the rainy winter).

#5 Daylily
I almost left daylilies off of this list and what a mistake that would be! Daylilies are so unassuming, so integral to gardens that you often forget how many kinds are available and how tolerant they are. Daylilies are grasses that have glorious blooms that soar up like trumpets on thin graceful stalks and erupt in a riot of color. Or, they are small little trumpets that toot occasionally in pastel shades. You can grow them just about anywhere, they make an excellent cut-flower, and require little in the way of nutrition or care. They are also easy to propagate-just dig them up and split them. They are also good at making you new friends because they're so fantastic people can't believe your generosity when you give them one. I brought 3 with me when I moved and have bought 2 more. Those 5 are just the start though since I like to mix in the ones that rebloom (like Stella D’oro) with the really crazy colored ones that only give it one shot. I have distant relative who is a daylily breeder (link to http://www.ahsregion15.org/Summer2004/marlette.php) that I’m hoping to visit this summer to get some zingers.

I couldn’t really come up with 10 plants like Lindy does with food items. I don’t think there’s any reason every home owner shouldn’t have at least one of the above plants tucked into their yard and apartment dwellers could even have 3 of the 5 (a pot of daylily, rosemary, and pansy looks great in every season). I might do a post next of the plants I think should be banned from suburban yards. Mostly, I’m just exhausted thinking about how much more planting I have to do!

Family Trees

All of my childhood, my maternal Grandparents lived beside my Dad. My parents divorced when I was young and to say my mother is erratic is an understatement. It was almost unheard of for a father to get custody of his kids no matter how unstable the mother may be (although I understand that the rules are changing a little). My Dad is so traditional, I'm not sure he even knew men could be single parents despite his obvious desire to be close to his children. So, home to me was always my Grandparents' home and it was also always near my Dad. Between both families, we had about 7 acres of land to roam around. Our 'yard' was covered with a hodgepodge of pasture, fruit trees, an acre of victory garden, and every ornamental plant known to the southern gardener. Each summer morning, I would walk to the vegetable garden with my grandmother to see what was ready for picking. I would pop Morning Glory buds and slip cherry tomatoes off of the vine for my little brother. Each summer evening, I would walk around the yard with my dad or my MawMaw (grandfather) and look at each plant specimen to see what progress had been made during the day. For my cousins and syblings, the gardens of our grandparents, great-Aunts or parents were the central focus of all our adventures. I do not remember a time when I did not know the common names of all the plants around me.

I have come to understand as an adult that this knowledge of flora is not necessarily normal. On a trip cross-country with my future husband, I realized that I am unable to drive in regions without varied flora along the roadside (say in South Dakota or Wyoming). Why? Because I identify plants in my head as I drive down the road as a way of staying awake and alert.

In our first house as a married couple, I had created a hodgepodge yard that was comforting and beautiful (in my opinion). While I am absolutely against knick-knacks, I habitually collect plants that have emotional significance. Collecting plants can be a very dangerous habit even if you don't intend to move. Plants are living organisms so they can die (!!!), they can just look bad, or they can overgrow their spot. In our old house, I had rosemary and peonies transplanted from my good friend ec, thyme along the footpath, peonies from my paternal grandmother, a bearded iris that I gave to my maternal grandmother for Mother's Day two years before she died, and countless other greenery laden with memories.

When we decided that our small house in the country needed to be traded in for a city yard, I knew moving was going to be tricky. What would I take from my large, overplanted yard that would fit in my new, teeny tiny yard? On top of downsizing considerations, we moved in the middle of summer which is NOT when you want to be transplanting. The choices were hard but I am never better than when I have a deadline (ask my coworkers). I limited myself to two large pots stuffed with odds and ends. Once planted, I took these 2 pots (yes, only 2 pots!) to my dad's house for babysitting until we could focus on the yard. One pot had a sprout of thyme, some purple cannas given to me by a neighbor, a rosemary plant, and a peice of my grandmother's iris. The other pot contained a lovely variegated ivy and assorted daylilies. Since my paternal grandmother is still kicking and LOVES to give me plants, I'm sure I can trade a day of yard labor for more peonies.

We spent the fall unloading boxes and the winter building a fence, getting landscaping plans approved and living life. The official landscape plan above was provided by my good buddy L.-a landscaping professional and my twin from another family. We have had to make a few changes due to power lines, sewage pipes, and general plant preferences but the gist is the same. L. likes viburnum and holly but I like hydrangea and indian hawthorne.

Our new yard was incredibly, undeniably terrible. It's only .10 of an acre, sod laid down over concrete, full of weeds and on a busy corner. The house is unusually tall and narrow with two porches -essentially a box. The previous owner had lived there only a year and had done little to improve the soil or the curb appeal. When we looked at the house, I NEW exactly what to do to that yard to make it charming and cottagey. Unfortunately, we had a lot of other things that had to happen first. I hid my head in shame all through last summer and fall and winter. I amused myself by putting in a few annuals and some herbs to keep the cooking decent.

It is spring and the gloves are on! We are making my garden dreams reality and I am basically humming with green thumb energy. Our fence is built (see previous post ). Last weekend we put in 3 truckloads of mulch and planted 20 plants. Only 2 truckloads of mulch and 20 more plants to go and the garden will be started. I can see my vision beginning to take shape but it will be at least a year before other people will see the fruits of our work. Daisies and roses of all colors will peek over the fence, small trees will shade the side yard, herbs are already peeking around. I walk around my yard every morning and every night to see what's happened during the day. Yesterday I taught my son how to recognize the first violets of spring.

Our family land has been sold and will eventually become a hotel or a shopping center. My dad lives on 5 new acres only 15 minutes from my new house. When he comes to visit me (or his grandson more likely) we walk around my yard inspecting what's growing. He asks me what a certain plant is, where I got it or when I'm going to give him a peice of it. Last weekend I crowed to him on our early morning phone chat that my grandmother's iris was up and green in one of the big pots he babysat last summer. I could hear his chest puff out-he knows how important family trees (and shrubs and perennials) are.