“When you see a bit of earth you want, take it, child, and make it come alive.” – Francs Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden 

Today I planted the beginnings of my garden. This will be my first proper garden, in my first proper yard. I bought this house last summer and have been eagerly awaiting spring since then. It is small, the lawn is sparse with more weed than grass, and the cement pathway is cracked and buried under years of soil. But it is mine and I love every inch of it. I often find myself wondering about the people that lived here before me. Did they love this yard? Were there once flowers spilling from beds of dark earth and windchimes hung from the trees? Did bright orioles visit sweet treats left by human hands? I like to think so, even it isn’t true. Like Mary Lennox and her secret garden, uncovering all those past memories. 

I chose a small rectangle of grass to plant my first bit of garden. Just a narrow strip between the house and broken path. Overrun with clover and dry whispy grasses, my mother and I spent an afternoon digging it out. While the soil was dark and soft and full of worms, tree roots wound through it like great rivers snaking around the foundation of the house. We hacked and dug and clipped away the massive web. Sod and spindly bits of root were piled together, waiting to be taken to the community compost. The wind took up the powdery soil and dusted us both, coating the insides of our nostrils. Once the roots were tamed, we laid down a thick layer of beautiful, black mulch. I was so pleased. 

I loved looking at that bit of black mulch. It made me warm and excited to think about the plants I’d put there. How their colors would look against the dark covering and bright white house. Tall grasses, delicate hibiscus, bright geraniums, and climbers reaching towards the sky. With this in mind, I went to the local hardware store and picked out my first plants.

I now have a beautiful array of whites, pinks, and greens, but my favorite is the Coral Bell. With filly peach leaves and tiny cream flowers that hover above the plant on long, thin stems, I’ve taken to calling them fairy flowers. Perhaps they’ll help bring a little magic back to my small bit of earth.