We tried for six years in NC to grow a good garden. I don’t know if was us or the heat or what but we never were able to top our gardens here at Four Oaks. I suspect it was us, as much as the soil, which we amended and healed in our years there. Gardening on a windy river bank in the mottled shade of century old pecans and poplars has a fairy tale quality that spoils one for gardening in the harsh sun of Cackalacky cotton country.
We started out trying to involved the homeschooling community and things were going fine until atomic level events hit both our co-gardening families and forced them to pull out in order to deal with live outside the garden. So here we are, left with this huge space all to ourselves. Mark is happier than a pig in shit.