From This Dirt Forward

My weekend accomplishments are duly reflected in:

a) The contoured crevices of my index fingers stained with the ink of crab grass and dandelions. 

b)  The large smile tattooed with sunshine on my lower back—the awkward result of hours spent in the weed-pulling position, wearing a top clearly ill-suited for gardeners (and plumbers).

c)  The bright and cheery photos I snapped this morning before dashing off to work.

I will leave exhibits a) and b) to your imagination and share with you only photos of my prettier work.

Welcome to my vegetable garden, where the frontier between edibles and ornamentals is blurred into a striking composition of beauty and nourishment; where edibles are ornamental and ornamentals are edible; and all coexist organically in one woman’s quest for a balanced ecosystem.  Welcome to my Utopia!

Off in the distance, on the far fringes of our property, my husband tends to his vegetable garden.   Out of sight (and hence, out of the scrutiny of his wife), he farms his vegetables in straight rows, rototills to his heart’s content, and presumably uses modern agricultural cocktails (for which we have a don’t ask/don’t tell policy) to make his produce bigger and more abundant.

But this post isn’t about his garden or this new division of our dirt– it’s just about my gardens.

I didn’t just want to plant another vegetable garden this spring–I wanted to create a colorful and natural outdoor space, where devoting my highly coveted free time to gardening duties would feel more like therapy than chores.  I designed my vegetable garden utilizing both basic garden design principles and a bit of whimsy. I wanted to utilize and experiment with the purported benefits of companion planting as an organic strategy for discouraging harmful pests while still accommodating for beneficial allies.    While paying more attention to the aesthetics of my vegetable garden design, my highest priority remained putting fresh wholesome food on my dinner table, bringing refreshing flavors to my cocktail glass, and perking up my summer kitchen one ball jar of cut flowers at a time.

The Zinnias in the foreground serve as a sacrificial trap-crop, enticing Japanese beetles away from the adjacent Chinese Long Beans.  Behind that is a 10’x10’ plot of the three sisters—corn, beans, and squash, which according to Iriquois legend are inseparable sisters that shall always be grown together to ensure good harvests and long-term soil fertility.  Planted in mounds, the runner beans will climb the corn stalks, and the squash will grow in the understory, creating a living mulch.  In the meantime, I added straw mulch because there are simply not enough hours of daylight for a working women to weed 2800 sf of garden by herself—I can use all the help I can get.

Here I’m experimenting with caging versus staking indeterminate heirloom tomatoes. A touch of blue paint adds a little pizzazz to the garden.  Basil purportedly enhances the growth and flavor of tomatoes and marigolds are widely accepted as a natural nematode deterrent in the garden.

I intentionally situated this small raised bed of herbs and edible flowers closest to the kitchen door, and likewise, closest to my cocktail glass!  Garden mixology is becoming trendy and I’m a pioneer on this bandwagon.  Rhubarb Martini?  Blueberry Ginger Mojito? 

Hidden amid the protection of this cosmos are some happy kale plants.  The cosmos is both an insect repellent and provides some shade for this cool-temp crop.  (There are also some grumpy eggplants tucked in there, which couldn’t keep up with the comos’ early growth spurt.  Sorry eggplants–I’ll make sure you get more sun next time.)

Rainbow Swiss Chard makes a beautiful and edible addition to the planter along my garden shed.

One of the most important things I think you can add to your garden is a place to sit your bottom (see background).  It is here that I shell peas, snap beans, shuck corn, and most importantly, relax and admire my efforts!