
this is the best june our garden has ever seen. a good amount of rainfall mixed with enough dry days and bright, warm, sunny june afternoons has us eating peas with every meal and filling our salad bowls to the brim with greens. my companion planting research is evident.
our nasturtium is overflowing the fences (much to the dogs’ delight, i might add).
our first-ever from-seed tomato plants are flowering and growing at speeds you can seem to watch with the naked eye.
in five weeks, we will leave all of it behind.
i get tears in my eyes as i write that, despite the immense excitement i have for our next adventure. i already have the plans in my head for our new raised beds. our new urban garden. how i will deter the adorable bunnies i have already seen on our walks around the neighborhood. we will enrich the soil from the get-go. and build hoops to extend our growing season. we have learned so much over the last six years of planting and tending and harvesting our gardens. it is setting us up for the most fruitful of futures in our new home and for our new gardens.
but, it’s hard. and as the days tick by, and our little poblano plants continue to grow and flower and form the very beginnings of their summer fruit, it gets harder. we spent a few hours weeding the beds this weekend, and the connection the the earth, the dirt, that dirt, is palpable. it will always be our first home.
we should’ve written into the purchase agreement that we could come back in august and harvest the fruits of our labor. but, instead. we pass it on. and can only believe that they will love it, cherish it, and respect it as much as we have.
here’s to the thriving of hearts, bodies, souls, and gardens.