The Promise Of The Harvest

I know enough about myself now to know that I love the planning stages of the gardening - the getting it started - the thrill of the new little seedlings popping up out of the ground - the battle with the bugs feels like a challenge - and spring fever makes it hard to stay indoors. I rarely buy soda, but my neighbors in my apartment building love it. So I go through the recycling periodically, and find bottles to make into waterers, cloches for the seedlings, and protection from the slugs.

 ~Will those potatoes really make more potatoes? (yes. If you do it right)
~Will these stakes be strong enough to hold up the vines? (yes. But there are about a million different ways to stake things)
~Is it really so important to put little labels at the beginning of each row? (yes. Unless you have a very good memory. If you are like me, you don't )
~Wont you just be able to tell what they are? (No. You are an idiot . You didn't label the row)
~Is it really so important to have a garden journal? (until you know what you are doing, it might be a very good idea. I misplaced mine this spring and didn't get it back until late summer. That hurt)

I planted potatoes in the plastic bins. And we'll talk about that later.
Sigh.
But I liked my spaghetti squash trellis on the end. And my bean trellis was the bomb! Some fairly high winds blew through this field, and nothing blew over.
I had originally wanted to train the beans to grow up string tied along the house, but the landlord wanted to paint, and it wasn't really going to get enough sun in that spot anyway. Peas might be better there next year.
You can see by the brown grass where the roundup had been sprayed. It was way too close to this garden, but I had to grit my teeth and carry on. I had to just hope that this wasn't going to affect my plants. Or my health.