March Winds

This morning I ventured out to the greenhouse to show Ms. Ruth the progress of my lovely start-up plants for the flower and vegetable gardens. This was her first trip out to see the inside of the greenhouse after we’d relocated the greenhouse to a less windy spot in the yard. We wedged the greenhouse between the garage and the fence to the west side of the property. Not putting it even with the edge of the garage, but back a bit further we though surely this would protect it from the damaging winds we have in this area.

 Again we were wrong —- again the winds were strong —- and our little greenhouse had had a tumble. This time only on one side but the damage was done and as a result I lost several nice terracotta pots along with what I planted in them. After the clean up, I turned to Mom and said “Well, at least I have enough shards now. I don’t think she quite knew what to say. And all Royce could do was to hug me. And cry with me! And understand when I said: “I hate Texas” as I walked past my wonderful companion in life to gather up the hose to water what was left in the greenhouse. (I’m thinking his thoughts were: surely she doesn’t mean it) Well, Mr. Royce, I did. Double did!

Nothing around here looks like anyone gardens. I wonder why? I’m certain everyone is thinking “why bother” and this is why yards are dead brown and chocked full of tumbleweeds. Except for the few landscapes I see with grasses (dead grasses by the way) and brittle looking shrubs I can spot little effort in the way of beautifying the landscapes on most folks parts.

Hello March

It is said by Shallowaterians that if March roars in like a Lion is will leave out like a Lamb. I’m counting on the Lamb because I sure don’t like the Lion.

But, I guess I’m glutton for punishment, because as an avid gardener, I must bother. If I am to live in this neck of the woods I must adjust to what nature throws at me to have a garden that I can be happy with. One that feeds my soul; gives me solace; quietens my mind. Provides beauty when I set on the back porch whilst I sip my morning cup of coffee hoping to watch the birds and butterflies flutter about. Quiet. Peaceful. Deep-Cleansing-Breaths of Morning Happiness. This is the ultimate goal I seek.

Dear Mr. Royce is busy wiring down the greenhouse as I write this entry. This time he has wired it to the fence! Lets see if this does the trick. If not —– I understand Southwest has some cheep rates and has flights between Lubbock and Dayton.

Oh, Dayton. My second home away from my Carolina Home. Green grass and fields of clover (well, maybe not exactly clover) and wildflowers (okay, okay, it’s actually wheat) to run through! The openness of the land between Huber Heights and Troy. Fresh air to breathe, air that doesn’t include dust or sand taken into your lungs. I remember thinking the past three years that I’d eventually adjust to the short gardening season of that far North of the Macon Dixon line. Now I’m thinking as a person who loves to grow things, will I ever adjust to this part of Texas, where the wind can blow a Giant Bean Stock over!

All I can think of right now is that my corn will look like this:wind damaged corn rowInstead of like this:rows of cornAnd that the rest of the garden will look like a rats nest!

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