The Insatiable Gardener Set for Winter Release
As some of you know, I've been busy working on a couple of new books, and I wanted to give you a sneak peek at one of them here. My newest title is much different from both The Lost Soul Companion and The Not-So-Lost Soul Companion, but I think it will appeal to some of you out there.
Set to come out this winter, The Insatiable Gardener: How to Grow Anything & Everything Indoors, Year-Round is my fully illustrated guide to gardening with high intensity discharge lighting. Although I am usually at my worst during the gray days of winter and early spring, growing fresh veggies and flowers indoors during these times has made a significant difference in my outlook!
What follows are some excerpts of what's to come:
It was surely the carrots that started all this. First, their feathery crowns the color of fresh limes. Then a hint of pale root and, not long after, row upon row of the orange root tops swelling out of the ground. I was just six when I had my first garden. It was a sandy patch planted full of carrots and nothing else because, I reasoned, no other vegetables were any good anyway.
It didn't take long for me to realize I was hooked on the sweet expectation that only a garden can bring. In the case of the carrots, for instance, I watched them go from hard seeds to tall greens, and to the best part—the orange surprise.
Even now I'm still in awe of the natural cycles of the garden. Whether I'm growing cayenne peppers, tomatoes, or eggplants, I am always caught a little off guard when I notice the first fruits. It worked!
I feel like crying. It's not just relief that I succeeded at something. Rather, it's knowing that keeping up hope and working hard still pay off. It's comforting to know that even though the world is filled with so much discord and uncertainty, my garden is a sure bet—well, most of the time anyway. Sometimes raccoons ravage my sweet corn and the birds get all the berries. Nevertheless, a garden is a hopeful thing, and we all need something to look forward to.
For years, I was something of a nomad, moving from one soulless apartment to another while working my way through college. I was hungry for a garden of my own but I had no land. At one point I had access to a four-by-five-foot patio, and I tried growing vegetables and flowers in a raised bed there. My friend built me a bottomless box that I then filled with heavy topsoil. Of course, with such inadequate drainage and soil depth, my plants died and I was left with an ugly box of mud. In the coming years I had more success with balcony gardens full of potted tomatoes and zinnias, but it still wasn't quite enough.
I found a way to get my gardening fix at least temporarily by offering to work other people's land for them. Between my many horticulturally challenged friends, I picked a new spot to garden every year so no one would feel left out. I performed nutrient assays, amended the soil as needed, and grew enough food for each of us to share.
But having to drive out to my garden every day or so to cultivate, water, and monitor the overall progress got old. Not to mention the fact that I was always starting over each year. That meant I wasn't able to make important adjustments based on past success in a particular area. Worst of all was knowing I had a lush garden going and I couldn't just wander through it at all hours of the day or night without making a spectacle of myself.
See, if I could, I would stay out in the garden for hours just sitting, meditating, trying to perceive growth in real time. I would wait patiently as buds gave way to petals and petals gave way to seeds. I would wait and wait and wait as the tomatoes turned and green beans presented themselves one by one. Eventually, though, my back would start to ache and the mosquitoes would extract most of my blood. And, before you know it, bill collectors are looking for me, my hair has grown down to my ankles, and, inexplicably, I am covered in snow. . . TO BE CONTINUED! —Susan M. Brackney