Without a lot of work on my part, but with a lot of help from child and friends, the garden might actually amount to something this year. Of course, my recordkeeping has already gone to pot. I've harvested and cheerfully eaten pounds of kale (and perhaps ounces of aphids) without writing a single amount down. We're still listing eggs, pretty much, on the calendar, but that's about it.
Oh, and the garden plan/drawing thing. I'm sketching things in there as they go in. At least I have some record. Mostly what I want is food -- much much more food. Kale is great, but we eat a lot more than kale usually.
And finally, finally, and with the help of the current Junior Farmer, some crops under lights. Tomatoes, a pepper or two (because not all of the overwintered ones are going to make it), some more kale (yay, kale!), and many flowers because families do not thrive on food alone. Well, okay, some of the flowers are things like breadseed poppies, because baked goods are pretty wonderful, but many are just pretty. For instance, we like zinnias a lot.
And both of my hives, it ended up, dwindled until the lives of the queens were at stake. Disease? I don't think so. Pests? Maybe. I think it was probably a combination of bad keeping and harsh weather -- but both queens were rehomed in more congenial hives and then a friend came over and dropped an entire hive on the fancy stand in my yard.
And fifty strawberries, it turns out, is a lot. Fortunately they all went into the ground ahead of torrential rains. I hope they like it. The winter-planted garlic is growing well, thank goodness. I wish I'd planted more, of course. . . And the peas, the peas that were protected by bird netting, they're still doing really well. So even though there's a ton more work to do, I don't feel anymore as though I'm lying when I tell people I have a large garden. It's just that not all of it (rather than none) is in production right this minute. At least there's hope now.