Someone stopped by the farm last evening, a neighbor’s cousin from out of town. We were all standing around chatting and he asked if we had visited some local attraction. And I said, “All we’ve done is work since we moved to this farm, but one day!” And he said something that went right through me and stuck to my heart and brain.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he leaned in to me. Then he said, “On a farm, the work is never done.”
My garden? Well, yes, Memorial Day came and went. You’re right, that definitely means that the long-awaited time FINALLY arrived to plant a garden in my NEW gardening zone. It’s much colder here than in ATL. Anyway, I have been impatiently awaiting the day after Memorial Day, when it is safe to plant here. I bought seeds, and planted seeds inside in Jiffy pots, and absolutely could not wait for the day AFTER Memorial Day to begin my gardening journey at this Farm.
Oh yes. I’ve dreamed of getting my hands into that old gardening soil, where the previous owners of this farm planted their kitchen garden for years and years. And years. I’m told it is the same place where their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents also planted their kitchen gardens. Last year was a gardening bust for me because I had taken down that line of 12 big white pines between the ancient gardening spot and the barn. And, as a result, there was the enormous mess of those 12 trees left laying right in my garden spot.
This year? most of that mess is gone. Not all, but most.