Archives for posts with tag: Gardening

That little flower on the header of my blog grew into a beast of a potted plant last spring. More leaves and stems than flowers – leaves so dense I wanted to stand on the terracotta pot just to feel how strong they really were.

Don’t worry I didn’t.

I grew flowers and tomatoes and brussel-sprouts and basil and lavender and a failed cauliflower. All on my little deck. This year, if winter ever ends, I’m going to grow more than seems necessary. Eggplants, cucumbers, tomatoes, spices, squash, snap peas, I don’t know what else, too much but still not enough. In a garden box. A raised bed in the ground.

I’m going to grow enough so I forget winter.


Yesterday my legs were a little sore. Turns out 100 squats will do that to a girl. Today, I can’t even walk right. As the day progressed it seemed as if my thighs were wrapped in tiny corsets. That two day curse. I should have stretched every ten minutes and gone for a run. I should have done something, anything to ease the pain. Mostly I just complained. It feels really good to whine about something so petty and self-inflicted. But that just convinced me to skip the gym. Oops.

I’ll feel bad about it tomorrow, I’m sure.

Tonight, we harvested our too small brussel sprouts and bought some Apricot beer.


Back from vacation today to find that my little tomatoes have grown in upside-down. As protest? To show off?

I’m impressed.

The North Shore was idyllic and much cooler than the twin cities. Great for photo ops and reading to the sounds of Lake Superior.

The dog would rather be with ‘grandma’.

I went up north a couple of times in my childhood but it’s been years. We hiked and ate at roadside diners and I felt trapped by my family. Going as an adult was different, better. I’d highly recommend you visit. The cell signal is poor. Internet is hard to find. You’re forced to just be. We read and ate meals together and stared at the water. It was nice. I miss it already.

My moonflower looked like it was going to bloom yesterday:


We checked it every hour. The dog lifted her little paw up to try and help. She’s so damn cute sometimes it nearly makes my heart burst. We even set our alarm for two AM to catch the moonflower off-guard (yes, I’m that kind of nerd). No luck. This morning the bud had folded in on itself like a fat teenager at a middle school dance.

On a better note, as the heat descends on Minneapolis, I had a nice little Sunday run. Maybe my fitness dreams aren’t as derailed as I thought.

The dog woke us earlier than usual today. She seemed to know that the weathermen were lying when they said the heat would break today. We walked around the block. We chased bunnies and squirrels and barked at dedicated early morning runners. Then, back home, we harvested our little tomato plant. Did I mention the poodle likes tomatoes?

She also likes to bark at passing children and dogs from the safety of our third story deck. I tried to explain that she doesn’t need to protect us. She tilted her head like I was speaking in tongues then ate the tomato I offered.

The poodle life doesn’t seem so bad.

It’s too hot in Minneapolis. Too hot to run or think or be a cauliflower, yet I’ve done at least two of those things today.

A skinny teenage boy passed out in the park.  Don’t worry, appropriate officials were called. An equally skinny girl dug through his bag as a cop tried to get the boy to say a coherent phrase. The dog and I stopped to watch as the cop propped up the boy each time the heat pushed his body back towards the ground. In theory, I like the heat. I always have. But theory is just the bastard child of reality. After my run today, I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus or form useful sentences. This kind of heat is just as bad as the deepest cold of winter. We’re trapped inside by the weather. I may have to rethink my theory.

It’s too hot, my friends.

I like the thick humid Minneapolis summer, so do my flowers:

And the cauliflower plant is protecting the cutest damn golfball-sized bud I’ve ever seen.

The dog, however, required a summer buzz-cut  just to keep from throwing herself to the grass after a five minute walk.

First deck-garden tomato!

Isn’t he handsome?



It’s pride weekend in Minneapolis which means the quiet ladies next-door had their annual backyard rager. The kind of party we can hear through the walls. The kind of party that makes me feel old when I close the deck door so I don’t have to listen to “Don’t Stop Believing” one more time. I know I sound curmudgeonly but I think that’s just because I wish I’d been invited. Poor me.

When I left for Iowa, the deck garden – flowers, tomatos, peppers, basil, brussel sprouts and califlower – couldn’t exactly be described as flourishing. After a week alone things have changed:

The mini petunias are trailing.

First baby sprout has sprouted.

 I think the plants are trying to break up with me.

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