I love to garden. It is a love that I inherited from my mother. Ever since I can remember she has toiled in her garden, planting tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, zucchini, herbs and I'm sure plenty of other things I'm forgetting. As a child she often let us plant our own beds to tend throughout the summer.
Well, in my adulthood, I have managed to continue the gardening bug. At each house we have owned, Pat and I have built a raised garden bed to make it easier to garden (our soil is so full of clay, it makes it hard to grow anything but weeds sometimes).
I don't know what happens to my garden every year. I start out with my plants so carefully spaced and end up with a raging jungle. I weed and tend, but the plants get out of control. Here you see them growing up and over the railing of the staircase to the basement door. This year, I planted even less seedlings than I normally do and I still have a mess. Part of the problem is that my cherry tomatoes keep re-seeding themselves and I can't bring myself to pull the volunteer plants out. We even have some tomato plants growing in the grass and at the bottom of the stairs to the basement!