Urban Farming

Everyone's doing it. This is California after all. Our backyard has two raised beds, which is actually a misnomer because they are lowered beds cut into the back slope. Nonetheless, they were constructed for this very purpose: the growing of food.

Every year I plant tomatoes. And every year we don't eat any because there aren't any to eat. One year a vole got them. Another year the sprinklers didn't work right and they withered. And another year we had a windstorm and the tiny plants blew right out of the ground and to places still unknown. Last year I planted them too late.

The only thing I seem to be able to grow is carrots. I love this picture of Tori in my parents' garden. It's the moment when she discovered that carrots actually come from the ground.

This year is no different. I planted tomatoes over the weekend. Two kinds. Cross your fingers for us.

One of Tori's friends has a huge garden, probably 1000 sf. I envy their summer bounty. I don't envy their pet tortoise and Spike is the reason that I don't just go over there and raid it in the middle of the night. He might be a trained guard tortoise.