hold up with that next episode.

I was talking to Amanda last night about the future of the Urban Carrot. The space has been as fantastic as the name but I ain't so sure the co-operative movement of a few should sputter into the amusing dregs of time. Planning is not my strength but I can scheme and make something out of nothing with the best of them.
Maybe it was harvesting beets the other day or maybe it's the accumulated experience of the garden that has made me feel this way but I do know we had the best of times gardening with good people and someone will have to convince me why I should let it skulk away.

Long Live the Urban Carrot

We always knew we were running on borrowed time.  Garden plots on rented property just have shorter lifespans.  And our time finally has run out.  

While we still have the space free and clear for another month or so, likely a new tenant will be moving into the duplex associated with the garden, and this incarnation of the Urban Carrot will pass into someone else's hands, to nurture or neglect as s/he will.  

It's been a marvelous two seasons of planning and trying new things, making mistakes, learning, and caring for the space.   Based on the silly gardening schlock purveyed by Lillian Russell catalogues and the like,  as a young girl I always thought the cheesy sentiment that gardening and growing food allows you space, time, and knowledge to grow and nurture your soul as well was just that-- a cheesy sentiment shared by middle-aged ladies in gloves and gardening clogs, with mass-produced "God Loves a Garden" signs in their yards.   Well, count me in your ranks, ladies!   This garden has been soul-food for me-- more than just a place to grow stuff to eat-- it's made me feel more connected to the ground, to my roots.  It's given me a place to come read, reflect, weed, recreate with friends, reconnect.

So, the Urban Carrot grows, and having growed, grows on.  Despite cross-town, cross-country moves, brand new old houses, changes and dramas, I think all of us will continue to spread the Urban Carrot love wherever we are.

Oh, and hey BIRDS!  Stay the heck away from my tomatoes!  I'm tired of finding pecked-out holes in the lovely red ones.