I AM BREAKING the rules of local gardening. It is still April yet the patch of garden in the backyard is all dug up, ready to be seeded.
I open the big bag of compost manure and spread it all over, a wish for good luck in each handful that I mix with the dusty soil. The smell is thick and heavy and there’s a promise of garden bounty in each black blob I break and spread around.
I remove long couch grass roots as I comb through the dirt, yet again, and I will keep on doing that all summer. Then comes the seeding. One hand forms the dirt gully, the other rains seeds into them: carrot, basil, thyme, and kale. Small nests for beans and pumpkin.
My little guy places peas in a row close to the wooden lattice, carefully covering each with a thin layer of dirt.