**Please Note: All posts will be back-dated to the original date I wrote them in my journal, at least until I get caught up.**
Okay, here's the thing, I started a garden. I started it April 16 to be exact.
I had been keeping a journal of it in a larger moleskine book, but with my impending divorce and subsequent depression, writing by hand just didn't hold up. It was something I needed to do at the time, but now I wish to go back to blogging.
So, again, I started a garden. My first attempt.
It has been interesting to say the least.
Whether or not you find it interesting, well, it's no skin off my nose either way.
I will say this is not a gardening blog for the faint of heart. There will be death. (Not everything will make it through this summer heat.) There will be carnage. (Blasted worms.) There will be cussing. (Like a sailor somedays.) So, if you are easily offended, sadly sheltered, or just the kind of person where you feel the need to comment just to cause trouble, I suggest you run screaming because, frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.
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People often think gardeners are kind, gentle souls with a love of nature who say things like "phooey" and "swell". I would like to think of myself as king and gentle, and I do have a love of nature; however, I also absolutely recognize that "dangit" just doesn't cover it when you drop a shovel on your foot.
