Raised Garden Bed in Progress ~

It’s not much, yet…

but here’s the ‘outline’ of the raised garden bed

we’re building in our backyard.

It will sit up against the old cement wall

and have arches,

(I have a ‘thing’ for arches)

and finials.

(I also have a ‘thing’ for finials,

so it will likely have a few of those too!)

Can’t wait to share it with you!

At ten feet across and four feet deep,

it’s not large by any means.

And it is a FAR cry,

from the ambitious vegetable gardens, of my childhood.

My Italian grandparents (on my mom’s side)

and later my father, who was all ‘Swede,’

had amazing vegetables gardens.

It was backbreaking work.

I dug up this wonderful old photo

of my Grandpa Massa working his garden

with my big brother Bobby, in tow.

Look at the neat rows,

old seed pail

and my brother…

holding steadfast to what looks to be,

a seed dibber of some sort.

(Not sure exactly, I didn’t come along,

for another 14 years or so.)

We were all so spoiled, growing up,

feasting on homegrown tomatoes,

string beans, corn, peppers, zucchini, lettuce and cucumbers.

Grandma Nettie would can the surplus

on her wood burning stove.

And we would eat well,

from her fabulous larder,

all fall and winter long.

It’s true you know,

what they say,

you reap what you sow….

One, two & even three generations

after my grandpa Paul tilled the Seattle soil,

so many in our family,

still take such pride in their gardens,

big and small.

Horticultural imprinting perhaps?

Some in our family, even gently taunt others,

over the vigor of their basil

or tease about being the first

to transmit the sound of home grown peppers frying in the pan,

via a cross-country phone call!

(No, we’re not competitive!)

Recently, my nephew Steve, started an organic living soil company.

In fact, he’s bringing me a few bags of ‘gold’… next week!

And I’m slowly gathering the raised garden bed accoutrements.

This wire cloche,

(love the shape)

should help protect my tender plants from our son’s

errant backyard footballs, baseballs and an occasional bocce ball.

(Need to hunt down more protective cloches!)

And is it chance or fate

that I was drawn to

this worn old pail,

with metal rivets,

a thick, ‘not of this time,’ handle….

and questionably sound bottom,

(YES, that’s daylight you’re looking at!)

Kind of reminds me, of my grandpa Paul’s old seed pail,

the one I came across in the photo.


or transgenerational gardening karma?

I can hear the peppers, frying in the pan, now.

* * *

Will you eke out space for a little raised garden bed?

Would love to know.