The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses. ~Hanna Rion

March 21st was the first day of Spring, the Vernal Equinox, and what a wonderful day it was.   I'm an optimistic gardener to my core, even if I see my plants wilt under the harsh summer sun.  That is why I try to plant something every year.

This year I've started out simple.  Just a couple of tomatoes and peppers with a side of basil.  There's still a good amount of potting soil left, so more planting is definitely in my future  But for now, on my humble apartment porch, it is a start.  But it calls to mind a garden from several years ago.

I used to work for a garden center. I came home tired, hot, sweaty, and smelly... but happy. I enjoyed walking up and down the rows of annuals, perennials, and shrubberies as I watered all of the stock. I delighted in reading the numerous gardening books, covers fading from the sun and pages curling from moisture, that were offered for for sale but never seemed to get sold. I especially loved imparting that information to anyone who asked for my gardening advice.

One of the perks of my old job, was taking home dry and damaged bags of soil for a pittance. This was especially welcomed since my husband and I had just purchased our first home and to call it a fixer-upper was being kind. The back yard was small and dominated by a huge pecan tree and a sad little peach tree. Most of the space was covered with a concrete driveway. What little dirt there was, was hard packed and littered with long forgotten nails, glass ...and pennies for some strange reason.

Being young and full of energy, my husband and I spent most of our time either fixing the house or working in the yard.  I sprinkled soil and grass seed over the small back yard until the grey dirt turned into a lush green carpet.  I dug beds in the front and back yards, no easy task since the soil was thick and black with clay.  In these beds I planted the scraggly plants I had saved from the dumpster.  Some were so sickly looking, I even questioned if I was planting or burying them.  My husband called this "Darwinian Gardening" since only the strong and best suited for our environment would survive.  Not all did.

But those that did not only lived, they thrived.  Soon, what was once a desolate waste land that even weeds found hard to survive in became an oasis in a hectic city.  Along the front fence and arbor (built from recycled wood...see earlier post) grew Morning Glories greeting the morning with purples and blues and and Nasturtiums seeing the sunset with a blaze of yellow and orange.  Amazingly, corn grew and produced a few small ears, potatoes defied pill bugs and tough soil to increase their numbers, and even a few tomatoes managed to grow to maturity.   The noise of the city faded as the growing vegetation seemed to muffle the sounds of car horns and alarms.  I even found myself altered by the creation going on around me. I found more and more calmness in my garden.  We harvested and dried so much fragrant Basil and Lemon Balm that memories of the summer were remembered in my cooking all winter long.   

I loved that garden; I loved the sweat, the dirt, the disappointments and the sore muscles. I continue to plant despite not owning a patch of ground on which to plant. I still find calmness in the dirt under my nails. I breath deeply the scent of lavender and basil. The sight of tiny flowers and fruits growing day after day fills my heart with joy. I look forward to tasting the fruits of my labor (quite literally).  Noises still seem to fade when I sit amongst my plants. My senses and my soul are restored with each new leaf.

For my friend who asked about planting tomatoes, and anyone else interested too.....
http://www.ehow.com/how_4546092_when-plant-tomatoes.html