So, it’s been a while. A bit more than a full year, in fact. I haven’t deliberately stayed away. It’s more a product of the whole only-so-many-hours-in-the-day thing.
You see, right about the time when I posted my last blog post, I found out I was pregnant with my first child. (!!!) Then, about 14 hours later (or so it seemed), I got slammed with the most intense exhaustion I’ve ever experienced. No morning sickness for me. No strange food cravings at 3 a.m. No wild mood swings. But, oh boy, exhaustion. Or, more accurately: E X H A U S T I O N.
By the time my energy began returning — several months later — I was facing a long list of home repairs and renovations that needed doing before the wee one’s arrival. Plus, there was that Monday-through-Friday need to work so I could pay the bills.
The result? Something had to give. And, by default, that something was the garden and the blog.
Sorry about that.
But, now I’m back and delighted to introduce you to the cutest “harvest” I’ve grown yet!
She’s wonderful. Distracting, demanding, and time consuming, but so so wonderful.
We’ve just celebrated her three-month birthday, and while it’s been delightful to spend the winter cocooned with her at home, I’m getting a bit twitchy. It’s time to get my hands dirty again. It’s time to return to the garden.
Starting with: weeding.
* * *
The truly delightful thing about a garden is how forgiving it is. Find yourself pregnant and exhausted and unable to summon up the energy to lift a trowel? No problem. The garden will be there nine months (or, a full year!) later, waiting and growing and persisting. A little worse for wear, most definitely, but still there.
And, thankfully, that’s what I’m finding. Amongst the healthy crop of spring-sprung weeds, I’ve found and rediscovered blooming crocus and snowdrops, sprouting asparagus, volunteer parsnips, spreading bachelor buttons, and much more. The bluebells are reaching for the sun and will burst into bloom soon. The daffodils are already in full display.
Every time I sneak five minutes to pull a few weeds, I’m finding more signs of life and survival in the garden.
* * *
Last year’s garden was my worst yet. I had energy just long enough to get things planted, and then slammed into that wall of exhaustion. Growing a human being completely wore me out. I know some ladies keep right on trucking through their pregnancies, and I am in awe. Because, some days all I could manage was transferring my tired body from bed to couch and back again.
This year, despite the small and needy creature in my charge, I’m setting my sights a little higher. Will my 2016 garden be my best yet? Absolutely not. But, it’ll be better than last year. Hopefully by a whole lot (and, let me tell you, that’s really not setting the bar very high).
Between diaper changes and spit-up clean-ups and loads of laundry and all the rest, I hope to find the time to plant and tend and harvest a modest bit of tasty veggies from the Outlaw Garden. I’ll plant less of the needy crops and more of the low-maintence stuff (I’m looking at you, summer squash and chard and sprawling-on-the-ground cherry tomatoes). There will be more fast-growing annual flowers and less of the more finicky or need-to-be-disguised vegetables. Things will be spaced farther apart, and less overall will be planted.
The same applies here, with the blog. My posts will surely be less often than I or you might like, but I won’t let another year go by. Promise. I’m aiming for an update every week here on the blog, with more frequent (and smaller) updates on Facebook and Instagram. Will I succeed? I guess we’ll find out!
And now, I’ve got to run; the littlest outlaw gardener just woke from her nap.
But first, let me say how happy I am to be returning to garden and blog. Thank you to any and all of you who are still “listening” despite the much-too-long silence. Y’all are the best! I’d love to hear how your gardens went last year, and what your big gardening goals are for this year. Also, anyone have any tips for gardening-with-child? If so, please share in the comments!
We’ve already begun her indoctrination:
And, yes, the whole garden was that overgrown. Yikes!