The garden is small, but doing well.
I'm about to plant some more greens, having suddenly realized that my current supply would be hard-pressed to ever meet my demand.
|Poor little arugula and green leaf lettuce. I barely let you grow before I eat you. And I'm not even bothering to really learn your names. Maybe you are chervil. I have no idea. All I know is that you are mesclun heaven.|
The three-year-old strawberry plant is surprisingly prolific already. I think we got maybe two s-berries last year? My boyfriend has happily already consumed one already, right off the plant, of course, and there are several more ripening, teasing him with their lingering green spots.
|I want to eat them now.|
|Striped strawberry will be eaten.|
I don't think I planted the garlic at the right time. That's okay, though. I enjoy munching on the garlic chives and maintaining a sliver of hope that I will pull amazing, fantastical, probably magical garlic out of my little plastic planter.
|Young garlic shoots.|
It could happen. Well, maybe not those few on the end there, I'm not sure what's happening there.
|Scraggly looking garlic chives. I suspect that I'm not the only one nibbling on these.|
I plan to add more plants, just as soon as I can afford them, but not much more. My little garden isn't much work, but on my bad days, it's already tough.
|Salad mix, garlic and thyme, kicking it on the porch.|
Strawberries, an undead rosemary and my dog, sunbathing.
Indoors, a weeping fig drips onto a stevia plant. How generous.