The Front Yard Garden
When we first moved in to this rental house, the yard was a freaking mess. Weeds were two to five feet tall, and there were decorative grasses and high maintenance plants everywhere. Oh and stupid day lilies as far as the eye can see. Day lilies have a short window of when they actually bloom, and they take a TON of room.
The sun exposure in our front yard is amazing, and there was already a big raised bed incorporated in to the design. I don’t give a tinkers damn about decorative plants, so my mantra that first summer was “if I can’t eat you, or you don’t attract bees, you’re out”. By the end of the summer, the weed pile was about 10 feet across, and four feet deep. That first year was an incredible amount of work, and there was little yield. That’s ok…you can’t decorate a house before you pour the foundation.
A few people have asked me if having my vegetable garden as opposed to flowers is weird, or annoys my neighbors. My first thought is always “I don’t care”, but then I pause and I realize I do care.
I care that when my neighbor tells her three year old “we’re going to Sarah’s house”, before he even puts on his shoes, he grabs a bowl. Even at three, he knows a visit over here, means berries, green beans, eggs, and his favorite; tomatoes!
I care that our elderly neighbor loves to hang over the fence (our yards are terraced up a hill and she is above me. So, the fence on her side is three feet tall, but looms about 8 feet tall over my yard. Got it? No? Don’t worry about it) and tells me about how she had 15 chickens during the Depression and kept her family fed with protein even when they didn’t have a penny to their names.
I care that the previous neighbor (house above us is a rental) would grab his folding chair, a glass of wine, and sit and talk with me while I weeded until it was too dark for me to see. He’d tell me about growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, and his time playing pro golf.
I care that there is a group of older folks who walk every night up our hill. I love being outside when they stop and smell my roses, admire the raspberries, and ask me questions about the garden. I love that they say my yard reminds them of their victory gardens during the war. I loved the look in one of their eyes when she gasped “oh you have chickens” and sighed a dreamy sigh.
I care that people who stop and ask me about the chickens always walk away with a little bit of education about a closed food system. I can’t tell you the number of people who have said “that is so cool” when I explain that I feed the chickens the garden leftovers in fall, which turns in to energy and calories to let them lay eggs, I eat the eggs, and then dry and crush the egg shells to return to them for protein, which in turn gives me more eggs. And then they laugh when I explain that almost as good as the eggs, is the sheer amount of poop I get as fertilizer for the garden.
I care that Jack and I were sitting on the front porch one day eating berries, and he said “Momma, don’t you wish we could live on a farm”? I dreamed a deep sigh and said “so very much buddy”. To which he swept his hand around the front yard and said “stop wishing Momma, cause we do”.
Living on less than one-fifth (1/5) of an acre means I’ll never be able to grow as much as I want of anything. I could either pick one crop to grow and be done with it after a few weeks, or I could diversify and grow some of everything. You could say I dabble in diversity.
Front yard gardens aren’t amazing because of what they produce, but rather what they create; connections, friendships, and a little bit of self-sufficiency.
Grab a bowl. Come on over.