Here is my winter garden – a few pots on tables and a shelf above the kitchen sink. I have thought of creating a winter jungle, with ferns and gardenias hanging in front of every sunny window, but each time I stand there in the nursery, looking at the plants, I always reach instead for an African violet and call it enough. I think it is because a little table of well behaved house plants is so compact, so undemanding, so need-free, that I am relieved to get my plant fix with so little investment.
A lot of investment? That would be my puny 1/5 of an acre, which (when combined with two dogs and a boy) is in constant danger of spinning off into vegetative chaos. Here is what has become of the patch of grass at the bottom of the stairs off the deck:
It has become Milo’s chewatorium, his grassy mat where he drags all manner of chewable things, like Noah’s toys, and destroys them. I can’t bear to post a photo of what my poor garden looks like now due to that dog. Milo Garden-Wrecker.
I had an hour to myself today, and so spent it in the backyard pruning and clearing out the remainder of the dead and dried up stuff in the beds. An hour’s work gained me this, a pile of some size:
In my next free hour I will have to bag it, and then call the city to schedule a pickup, and then remember to haul it to the curb on the appointed day. Really, maybe I should look into bonsai. Or terrariums.