Happy New Year from Portland Edible Gardens! Spring may still feel like a remote island somewhere far away, but take heart and take heed! We are drifting steadily towards that shore! Before we know it, the buds will be breaking and the sun that warms our soil will be nurturing the gardens that we plant (or the weeds that we don't).

Well the summer went whizzing on by, and somehow its already November!! So much has happened these last few months and now that the rain has arrived I find myself with a little more space to breathe deeply of this fine Fall air. I thought I would take this morning to put together a little photo journal of what Portland Edible Gardens has been up to these last few months!

Well the weeks have been slipping by without a peep from the Portland Edible Gardens Blog! And as you can imagine, we have been busy busy bees!! It has been a mild and dreamy Spring with many opportunities to embark on new garden builds and to get a lot of early spring plantings in the ground. Since so much has happened in the last six weeks, I thought I would do an unconventional blog post and just share some photos and anecdotes from our Spring activities!‍

Direct sowing is one of my absolute favorite garden activities. Not only do we get to participate in a totally miraculous and unbelievable process, growing vegetables from seeds also has many benefits that can lead to healthier, happier, and more productive plants.

The search for and acquisition of seeds is my very first act of gardening each year. For me, this process begins months before I amend my soil in the spring or plant the first pea seeds. It is a process that I take deep pleasure in for several reasons.

I still remember the experiment in kindergarten: Planting a single bean in a paper cup filled with soil. We lined them up on the window sill, giving them their daily watering and waited with vague anticipation for... what? I waited, I grew impatient, I lost interest. But I was drawn back one day to some faint stirring in the soil. And then, those first two leaves, those pale and waxy cotyledons stretching out like fists, and then unfurling like tiny hands in happy defiance while roots stretched equally downward somewhere below. I loved my bean. I reveled in its bravery and its mystery. In some ways, I have come a long way since my paper cup, but my fascination with that little miracle has not. And I am grateful for that.