The Wake-up Call

This is not my garden.  But it's not much worse.

I had big dreams of a beautiful and productive garden, complete with raspberry and blueberry bushes, fruiting trees, tomatoes, peppers, squash and melons, a bed of lettuces and herbs, peas and pole beans running up a trellis with colorful nasturtiums--all in our tiny urban backyard.  It was possible, and its easy elegance would rival Martha Stewart's gardens.

But reality was an absolute disaster.  Things started well--I started seeds in March, and had six healthy grape tomato seedlings ready to go after the last frost.  My raspberry bush woke up and was producing delicious black raspberries in May and June.  Josh built a fancy stone raised bed for my herbs and lettuce, and I had a nectarine tree and two blueberry bushes in the ground by June.  We even put mulch down around the plants to inhibit grass growth.

Then the raspberry plant took over, stretching its thorny, leafy branches across the blueberry plants, through the fence and into the driveway.  I decided that grape tomatoes were small and didn't need the support of wire cages, so I planted four of them behind my tree and two more by the AC unit.  As it turns out, grape tomato plants are just as big as the real thing, and desperately needed support.  I added some wire cages as an afterthought, but it was too late, and they fell to the ground in a tangle of tomato vines, raspberry branches and tall grass (the mulch didn't help as much as we expected...).  The watermelons finally began to grow, and I learned that one small yard does not need four melon plants.

Now half of our backyard was a mess of vines and branches.  The plants were too close to produce much ripe fruit, which was good because I wouldn't have been able to get to it through all the thorny greenery.  To make matters worse, our dog thinks he owns the backyard and brings all of his trophies (shoes, toys, larger pieces of trash) there for demolition.  By late fall, when frostbite had turned hundreds of green tomatoes to sickening mush and heavy rains had turned our grassy yard to mud, my garden looked very much like the above.

It's my pattern to have big dreams, little direction and less time.  I am a maven of unfinished projects.  The result of my disastrous attempt at gardening was tangible evidence that things need to change.  Not that it stopped me from starting a kitchen remodel that is currently stalled at "partially tiled," or from planning and purchasing the materials to make Christmas presents that are sitting in a drawer in raw form in January.

I need to change this habit.  It's starting to annoy Josh (who is no longer supportive of my out-of-control endeavors), and my lack of focus is making me less and less productive at a point in my life when time is too precious to waste.

For 2012, I will only set out to do what I really can accomplish.  Not what might be possible if the stars align and everything goes according to plan.  Because it won't go to plan.  I will anticipate complications and the occasional failure.  I will limit my plans to realistic projects which are fundamental in achieving my goals, and I will not get sidetracked by the interesting DIY projects I come upon.  This blog will be my critic.