A Garden Journal

Yellow snow pea
The first yellow snow peas from this year’s garden. They didn’t do very well in our weird spring, but they were beautiful.

I have been gardening on and off since 2009, when my husband and I turned the trash- and weed-covered patch of dirt behind our first rental into two neat vegetable beds. We had no idea what we were doing, but it didn’t matter — I was hooked. Since then, I’ve planted vegetables every summer, as long as we weren’t in the middle of a move (and that one dreadful year where we lived in an apartment building and didn’t have a yard at all).

Every spring, it seems like a miracle to me that the tiny seeds I tuck into the dirt actually sprout, let alone become rambling monster plants by late summer. And every year I think to myself that I should have been keeping track, should have been documenting the garden better. What grew well, what floundered. Pests that plagued us, and whether I was able to fight them off. How and when I fertilized, watered, harvested. When exactly those first tomatoes ripened, so that when I’m anxiously watching them in June, I can remind myself that I still have a month to go.

Our very first garden.
Our very first garden in Pocatello, circa April 2009.

But the chore of record-keeping has never been my forte, so I thought keeping an online journal might be the perfect way to track my garden. Nothing formal or structured, no set rules, just a simple way to remark on what’s happening in the garden now, so I can look back on it next year and the year after that.

Starting this journal in mid-August means I haven’t done a very good job of documenting this year, either, but at least I can reflect on the end of this year’s garden while I dream about next year. And besides, timely, organized, well-planned? That’s not exactly how I garden, so why should my garden journal be any different?