Passing For Normal

A dozen years and four homes ago, I used to be a passionate gardener. I had a gorgeous raised bed organic veggie garden and also ornamental plants and shrubs stuffed into every possible inch of anything that resembled plantable space. And oodles of pots in the unplantable spaces. I fed the neighborhood. It was glorious. It made me joyous and fed my soul.

Then there was marriage, divorce, and a couple of flavors of disability, and there were little apartments with no dirt and no will or physical ability to garden, anyway.

Several years ago I moved to a double-wide mobile home with its own little yard. Unfortunately, it's not a particularly plantable yard. Fortunately, it's pot-friendly and very sunny.

Today I planted four oversized pots with veggies.

From closest to farthest, they are (or will be, once they sprout):

"Stupice" tomato (Czech variety, should tolerate the weather; our summer temps average around 70)
"Sunsugar" cherry tomato (orange, very sweet, heavy producer if I'm lucky)
"Romano" flat green Italian pole beans (omg yum)
"Golden Wax" yellow bush beans



I am so excited! *happy dance*

I'm also going to get some sort of small, non-greedy flowering annuals to plant around the outside edges of the two tomato pots. They'll help attract pollinators and beneficial insects, and they'll look pretty.

Life is good. Today, life is very good. :-)