This is my country garden:
To me, it's the most beautiful place on earth. Nonetheless, it is not at all what I envisioned. When I proposed to my husband 9 years ago that we solve our city-mouse country-mouse problem by buying two houses, I fully expected to be in the country whenever my kids were out of school.
That worked well enough when my kids were small. But they are not small now, and it has been a constant struggle even to arrive at my beautiful garden, which is only 45 minutes away from my city house, even to harvest my gorgeous vegetables. I have one child who rides horses here in my small city of Saratoga Springs, another who does ballet madly and always has some performance or another, and a third child who considers school a total misery aside from the classes he audits at Skidmore College up the hill.
For the last two years, getting anybody to come with me to the country has involved a tug of war.
Nonetheless, Mother's Day weekend was the rare weekend without any ballet obligations–and I was ready to head eastward at noon on Saturday, after my daughter Georgia finished riding,to check on my asparagus, spinach, and rhubarb and to plant broccoli, cabbages carrots, chard, and a million other things. When, to my horror, Georgia informed me that she needed to be back in Saratoga first thing Sunday to get ready for a horse show.
And all at once, in an instant, I just gave up, and started tearing up the sod in my city yard.
This is what I've got to work with:
Not as big, not as beautiful. It's unlikely that I'll be growing wheelbarrows' worth of potatoes here. But this plot does have the peculiar advantage of being situated right outside my kitchen door.
In the country, I'll plant cover crops.
And I'm sure a vegetable garden will really raise the tone of the city yard. Before it didn't have much purpose, other than as a repository for unhappy grasses.
I'll let you know how it goes.