Last year I started a project that I had been tossing around for years. The tossing was due mostly to courage (or lack of) and a fear of failing. My history with "new ideas" is not that promising. I tend to be overly exuberant at first - which I think of as the honeymoon faze - and then as the hard work sets in I find that the thrill is over and I get that 7 year itch (sometimes within days of returning from the honeymoon).
My husband is a good, kind and patient man and he has seen me through some real doozies. Like the time he went out of town and I decided to take down 1/2 the kitchen cabinets (I watch too much HGTV) or the summer I recruited our then 11 year old to help me renovate our 90 year old basement. Each and every time my man comes (visually I like to think of him galloping in on a white horse) to grabs my hand and rescue me from my seemingly endless mess.
Each and every "mess" is totally self inflicted - So, when I wanted to turn our unusable clay tennis court into a garden I didn't think I had enough life lines left to ask him to come on board. But as I have already mentioned he is a really great man and with out even reminding me of past ventures that went awry we began digging our garden last spring.
This blog is about all the lessons I have learned, failures I sure didn't expect, and the amazing amounts of joy my garden as allowed me to experience. My garden in April: From my bedroom window
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