Okay, when I say “dumb” I don’t mean dim-witted or stupid. I’m simply saying that, as far as gardening goes (or keeping anything green, well, green), I have no idea what I’m doing. The dumb gardener’s guide to patio gardening is my way of simplifying gardening to a small, manageable space that’s easy for anyone to keep. Probably.
Growing up in the high, arid country of Colorado, it was nearly impossible to grow anything beyond sagebrush. During the summer, we would road trip to my parents’ home state of Iowa to visit family and bring home a pantry’s worth of fresh canned goods to last throughout the coming year (seriously, do you not get Little House on the Prairie vibes??).
My grandparents were master gardeners – cultivating every variety of vegetable imaginable. They lived in a small house built in the 20’s (that’s the 1920’s) with a damp and dark cellar that they used for canning and storing their harvest. I remember feeling so small wandering the rows of tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, and towering flowers. The warm, earthy smell of soil mixed with the grungy scent of oil and gas from the neighboring car shop wafted through the humid summer air and wrapped me in a sticky hug. I loved those summer visits.
Fast forward through childhood, a move to Iowa, college, marriage, and to our first house purchase. Two springs after Jude was born, I decided to try my hand at the art of a true Midwest garden. Obviously, I had it in my blood – how hard could it be?
So, we (by we, I mean Derek) tilled and prepped the ground. A fence was built, seeds were sown and cute little garden markers were made by hand. Then, I waited for the spirits of my ancestors to infuse the ground with their mystical prowess.
Welp. That plan went to shit. Honestly, I should have known better. Gardening takes knowledge, hard work, effort, patience, and time. Going from no gardening experience whatsoever to planting a 20′ by 20′ space was ambitious, to say the least. We were also living through an incredible amount of stress – Derek’s dad had just had a massive heart attack (the widow-maker, as they call it), I had resigned my job as a counselor to be mom full-time – going from double to single income after buying our first house – and Derek’s company faced an uncertain future. We were new into our marriage, new into parenthood, and flying blind. Planting a giant garden as a mental escape was a bad idea.
The truth is, I want to be good at everything. The reality is, I’m not. Plain and simple. I’ll always *want* to be good at everything. But I’m beginning to accept that failure is in my blood, too. To fail is to learn -sometimes painfully – but learn nonetheless. I fail, learn, and achieve in some way, every day.
So, this year, after a huge move fraught with uncertainty and too much take-out food, I decided to try my hand at gardening again. This time, on a small, raised bed on the back porch. If you’ve followed along on Instagram, you know that we are surrounded by incredible wildlife – incredible wildlife that would view any garden as an all-you-can-eat buffet. Keeping that in mind, a gorgeous wood planter on wheels caught my eye and I nabbed it. I built it on our back deck – safe from grazing deer and elk – with the ability to wheel it to protection during spring hail storms.
Rather than start seeds on my own, I decided to purchase established plants from a local garden store – tomato, lettuce, pepper, and strawberries. Someday, I will try starting seeds on my own – but for now, growing what’s already been planted is good enough for me. This post is less about cultivating the perfect patio garden and more about trying. To try is to succeed – believe it.
The spring rains and mountain sun have been good to this little garden. I’m going to harvest my first bit of lettuce for lunch tomorrow – and I feel awesome about it. It’s a win after many failed attempts – growth in the most literal sense.
Maybe you are a master gardener. Or, perhaps you’re the proud owner of black-thumb. Regardless, we all fail and succeed. Don’t let the fear of failure hold you back from the possibility of success. More importantly, don’t let failure keep you from trying again.
Peace, love, and light (after coffee) –
Want to see a few of my favorite gardening finds this year? See below!
