Kamikaze Gardening

Walls can be found in all kinds of places, even in nature, and this past weekend I hit a new one.  I planted a vegetable garden. In our backyard.  In the middle of the city.  Two years ago I planted a flower garden in our front yard, and was surprised at how much I enjoyed gardening.  I couldn’t believe how everything flourished in our extreme Texas heat, but it helped that I purposely chose native, perennial plants.  A vegetable garden, however, seemed like a delicate operation that I wasn’t trained for.  Like I said, this was stretching it for me.

This whole idea came from my boyfriend, Michael, who craved strawberries like he had growing up in Ohio.  Even though Texas is hardly Ohio, and we live right in the middle of a huge city, last summer he built a large compost container and plotted off a corner of our backyard for a garden (Michael loves projects).  He did some research online, built a wooden structure for the strawberries, threw in some sand, and lovingly planted the plants he had ordered online.  He also grew seedlings from some habanero peppers we cooked one weekend, rigging up a homemade greenhouse with reflective walls and a grow light  on our kitchen table. (Did I mention that Michael likes projects?)

During spring break we went to Home Depot and went a little crazy buying packets of seeds and starter plants.  We bought tomatoes, okra, cauliflower, oregano, sage, peppers, onions, garlic, and zucchini.  I also couldn’t resist adding more flowers to the flower garden, and bought some irises, hollyhock, calla lillies, wildflower seeds, and sunflower seeds.  We bought all kinds of seed packets–carrots, celery, looseleaf lettuce, and broccoli, to name a few.

We started on Saturday afternoon, but I spent so much time planting the new flowers and starting a wildflower garden against the back fence, that we never even had time to do anything in the vegetable garden.  We made up for it on Sunday and worked like dogs until it got dark.  Gardening is hard work.  It was hot, too, for so early in the spring, with the temperature hovering in the mid-80’s.



This is where our inexperience starts to show.  We did nothing extra to the dirt in our garden.  We had been adding compost to the ground since last summer, so we figured it was good to go.  Michael kept saying it would be okay, even though my Mother Earth News magazines always talked about ph levels and acidity.  We eyeballed our plots (none of that measuring and using string to make everything nice and straight for us), and plopped everything in the ground.  Our garden was taking shape, but by the late afternoon we were getting tired and cranky.  At one point I saw Michael dig a hole and put in an entire head of garlic and cover it back up with dirt.  When I asked him if he wasn’t supposed to pull the cloves apart and plant them separately, he replied he was too tired.  Running marathons are hard, but my brain was starting to feel as fuzzy as it does around mile 19.  We had definitely hit the gardening wall.

Our garden filled up quicker than we expected, and I still needed to plant the onions.  I decided to add them to the front of my new wildflower garden, kind of like a natural border.  The ground was hard as a rock, and when I mentioned it to Michael he pulled out an entire bag of peat moss from the shed that I didn’t even know we had.  I was secretly thinking we should have added it to the vegetable garden.  I dug a long trench and mixed the peat moss in with the flowerbed dirt and somehow found the energy to plant about 60 tiny onions.  My back was killing me by the time I was done.  I had the feeling my onions were doomed.  Just below the peat moss mixture was a wall of hard clay that I doubted my onions would be able to penetrate.  At the very least, I figured they would be horribly deformed and would make good conversation pieces when I tried to give them to my friends.  Hey, check out these pancake onions.

Somehow, when everything was planted, we managed to pull ourselves together and take stock of our hard work.  With optimism and the satisfaction that can only come from a day’s worth of hard physical labor, we staggered off to the shower, not knowing if anything would actually take root and grow in our own little inner city vegetable garden.




  1. pobept

    As a former Texan and now attempting to garden in soil even harder to deal with than my native Texas soil, I can empathize with your gardening ordeal.

    NOW repeat after me,
    Gardening is fun, It really is fun.
    Starting today I will not do stupid things in my garden.

    Hope you get a nice crop of pancake onions 🙂 Take pictures, save seed, you can get rich selling pancake onion seed by mail order….

    • Mind Margins

      Thanks so much for the words of encouragement. Great idea about the onions. As for doing stupid things in the garden, I can’t promise it won’t happen, but that’s what makes it so much fun, right?

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