Blond country girl ;)

Well, I grew up “in the dirt” – in my dad’s enormous centuries-old garden of apple, cherry, plum and sea-buckthorn trees, the twenty kinds of currant (red, black and so forth) and gooseberry bushes, surrounded by people who loved to garden even more than we did.
My dad wouldn’t even hear the word “spraying” and I haven’t met a lawn outside a soccer field, probably until I moved here.
I still don’t like lawns, but we’ve got one. We may not poison it, we may hope there will be more Dutch clovers and vetches in it one year, but the compulsory putting green remains.
I’ll never be okay with the encroachment of “dear ole” Monsanto, or the neighborhoods with no trees (I was raised to worship trees… and I do), but there are no more quiet tears over the lack of peonies and cherry trees.
I’ve come to embrace my gardening zone and the zone where I do garden – the sun is bright, the soil is light (I grew up on rather acidic clay) and the summer squash will come eventually.