Urban Gardening the Dirty Durham Way

I live in a townhouse a mile and a half from downtown Durham in an older neighborhood of 1950's kit houses in one direction, and slum apartments in the other. Our non-descript brick buildings echo a once nicer housing community, but now simply boast some of the cheapest rent for location in town. There are plenty of Duke grad students, a few young families with crying babies, and a scattering of working 20 and 30 somethings like my partner and me. I've been here for over three years and had hardly met anyone else living on our street until last summer. What changed? A garden that looked like this:     

It rivaled even the dog-phenomenon of people meeting. During the high time of summer, I could not be outside without a walker, biker, even some car riders, stopping to comment, ask questions, or let me know they've been watching it grow for months and finally caught me outside to tell me so. Wow. And I thought it was my own semi-private thing. Most people are in their own worlds, right? Who really cares about gardens except for gardeners? Grow something big in front of your house and find out.

I like Durham mostly because it's still dirty. Sure, there's plenty of hipsters and eco-mommies and tech guys who commute into Raleigh. But as a whole, if you live anywhere near Durham proper (vs. Southpoint or close to Chapel Hill) chances are higher that you're a cool person. There's still enough rough edges, diversity, and wriggle room in this town to attract those who prefer a little more originality. I definitely would call my style of gardening "dirty." I grow on the cheap, I plant seeds in just about anything that will hold dirt and can have holes drilled for drainage, and I don't mind stepping on a few traditionalist's toes (even to gardeners, having everything "exposed" out front is weird. As is how closely I cram in plants. And I haven't exactly asked permission from my townhouse owner). 

It might not look like much now, but I've got even bigger plans for 2012:

 

My motto: Why have grass when you can have anything else. I have graciously been given passing permission from my neighbors on the corner to use their space as well. I had already widened and cleaned up the existing bed, but after coming home yesterday with a new packet of half priced sunflower seeds, I decided to extend it around the side of the building. Who doesn't like flowers anyway? Even 6 foot tall ones? As for the big block of dirt in the background of the top picture? That's the future plot of a three sisters garden: corn, green beans, and pumpkin interplanted. That's right. Corn in front of my townhouse. I can't wait.

But for now, I nurture just-sprouted seedlings for my spring garden, which you plant in February around here.

The two trash cans on cinderblocks are compost bins, dirty Durham style. These containers are around back until the sun pattern returns to the north side of my building. I'll be moving everything in a few weeks. That is if random snows and mid-70 degree days don't royally mess things up even more than they already have.

 More urban gardening updates to come as the season progresses. And if this makes you at all inclined to grow something, do it. Just put a couple seeds in some dirt and experiment. Gardening can be like Alice's rabbit hole, easily getting lost in never-ending resources, advice, critters eating your food, and potential outcomes. But hell, just plant a seeds and see what happens.

Leap Day - hello blog world

 I'm in the kitchen, barely conscious enough to be making coffee. Happy juice, my partner (K) and I have started calling it. I'm in a blue, fur covered robe while she's in slacks and heels.

"What are you up to today? What're you thinking about?" K asks, much more awake than I am.

I shrug, bleary eyed, "Stuff. Things. You know."

"What kind of stuff?" She doesn't always persist, and I'm not always vague.

"Um, writing stuff, errand stuff, work stuff."

"That's a lot of stuff."

"Yeah . . . " and we leave it at that.

We've done a lot of work to be comfortable with the life style we've chosen, but it still feels weird sometimes when she's off to an office, co-workers, actually making money, and I have the entire day ahead mostly alone, making my own schedule, being at home. I suppose that makes me an odd type of housewife. Odd because (1) we have no children who would traditionally keep a spouse home, (2) we are not married, it being illegal and all, and (3) besides the cooking, crafting, and gardening, I don't really fit the housewife bill.

I'm 26 and certainly employable. I do make a little cash babysitting, but it wasn't my lack of career options that has kept me home. And it's not the "stay home and write so you can get famous one day and pay me back for supporting you all these years" artist funding that it may have started out as (even though there never is a "payback" for that kind of thing). It has been a clear choice for me to stay home, for us to live off one and an eighth income, to share a car. Mostly because it came naturally, partly because I'm really lucky.

Even though I had explained what a leap year was to a seven year old this weekend, I forgot about the "extra" day until an hour ago, seeing the 29 on my computer's calendar. I sat here, thinking about the day half gone, what I had done in it, and then randomly a conversation a friend and I had had over a year ago:  You should write a blog. What? Yeah. A blog. The way you pretend with kids, your kick-ass garden, everything. You write. Yeah, but not blogs. I don't even read blogs. So. You should make one. Put down your ideas. You never know who might want to read them. 

I did not follow up on his suggestion. Didn't even really think about it. Not my thing, I told myself. Not until this afternoon, not until Leap Day at least. I was reading a new blog from one of the mom's I help, and the lightbulb finally clicked. Hey, maybe I should start a blog. What about? My life in Durham.