March Madness

It's probably heresy to say this in ACC country, but ... March madness to me has to do with gardening, not basketball.  Such a busy month!  And just like the Final Four, the work continues into April. I know others are as busy because my fellow blogging friends have vanished from the online world. They, like I, are tilling, planting, dividing perennials, and caring for baby goats more than blogging. Well, friends, if you have time to read this, know that I miss you and look forward to a rainy day that may give you some inside time to blog!

We have been getting our garden ready. This is a picture of my wonderful husband tilling the composted horse manure into our new, improved (expanded) garden! Nothing like rich black dirt to make winter's planning become a reality. Today we will make the rows and wait for that magical day ... the last frost of the season. My grandfather, who farmed this area all his life, swore never to put anything into the ground before May 1. I'm hoping I can wait until tax day before succumbing to the temptation.

My perky seedlings are thriving in my fabulous greenhouse! Here are the heirloom peas and beans, onions started from the seed of last year's crop, and strawberry runners given a jumpstart in a temperature-controlled environment. The greenhouse is soooo much better than southern exposure window sills of all the foregoing years ... for several reasons: 1) no leggy plants from an inadequate amount of light, 2) no daily turning of the trays so the plants aren't bent toward the sun, and 3) more room for more trays, which means more plants and a larger, staggered harvest.

Perennials like hosta, oregano, mint, Black-eyed Susans and Lamb's Ear have been mercilessly dug up and chopped into halves or thirds. I'm not sure what I am going to do with all the extras. If/When we do move to a farm, I won't need a budget for landscaping as I will have all I need potted and ready to be returned to the earth. And there is something about moving plants with me that gives a new location a sense of history. These hosta came from my mother's yard and I have others that came from the first home Scott and I had when we first got married.
It's another beautiful day outside with blue sky and temperatures forecast to reach mid-80s. Time to go homestead instead of just writing about it. Ta-ta!