White Trash Permaculture Garden, Part One

Though I've had a garden for a while, it has been a while since I had that magical feeling that comes with love and connection to your garden. I've never had the money to buy the things I am told to buy to have a garden. I was getting tired of growing anemic veggies. Then, in March of 2016, I mangled my foot and gave up completely. 

Over the last few years, I have learned so much about myself. And suddenly it hit me...my garden is a form a self-expression. And if I am not expressing my true self, is it truly my garden? Isn't this that place where learned and lived experience suddenly becomes apparent? If I am taking these ideas about permaculture, plants, gardens, nature, and trying to create the perfect garden, without first letting them sit, percolate in the realm that is me, then my garden isn't truly mine, it is a fragmented reflection of my mind.

I'm ready to build a garden. My garden. In fact, I just have just accepted it as mine, exactly how it is. And I am making it up as I go along.  I am starting where I am. With what I have, not the things I don't have like money or permaculture super-stars.  I know my porch is hot, that I've never been real good at growing things, that I work enough for two people, that I homeschool my child. I don't have a truck. I don't own property. I can be lazy. Well... my therapist says I'm over-worked, not lazy. 

My garden is permaculture garden, the white trash variety. Bohemian, hippie, well-traveled, white trash. I use the resources available to me, the plentiful refuse of white liberal North Bay capitalism. It won't be to the standards of Petaluma or Sonoma County, because I am not a standard Petaluman or Sonoman. I won't have a water-wise natives garden. I won't secure truckloads of wood mulch and cardboard delivered to my yard. Not tidy and clean and of the best materials. Not professional. My will be messy and experimental. 

I'll feel my way into this garden, like I feel my way into most everything. And I will start on my porch. And maybe if I am lucky, it will look like this: 

The Rooftop Garden at Unitierra, Oaxaca City. 

I was once at Unitierra in Oaxaca, MX. I studied community based education there. One of my favorite things to do was explore the rooftop garden. It was made of random pieces of rope, milk and water jugs. Found buckets and pots. I felt at home in the garden. (Actually, I often find myself feeling at home in Southern Mexico. My soul feels so much more liberated in Mexico.)


East side MY the porch, as it is today.

Right pot: Sage and freesia from years past, a strawberry my friend gave me last week, and the top of a pineapple, just to see if it grows. I have let this pot and its neighbor to the left, dry up too many times, so the soil wasn't so good, but I've kept it mulched and moist for a while and it seems to be improving. I mulch in place, now. I also added some double duty horse and cow manure.
Left pot: Oregano that has died back every year for many years. The Aloe had been sitting in a tiny pot for a couple years, but then it used up all the dirt so I planted it in place.
The plate and tray is evidence of my untidiness. I have been thinking about putting them away all year.
The three little pots are my mom's lettuce starts.
Bottom of the picture: Yarrow. I love yarrow. Its is a heart choice. I saw it at Occidental Arts and Ecology Center. A magical place. Yarrow loves me. I need it in my space.



To the left you will see my daughters Black Walnut tree sprouting it's first leaves of the season.  We got it at a roadside farm stand on Bodega Avenue and fell in love. (Ironically, since I took the picture, and before I finished writing this blog, my mom came by with a baby walnut tree. She forgot I had one. No one has ever given me a walnut tree ever in my life)

So I planted the walnut in this pot I found. Last winter a clover moved into the pot. Clover was the name of my first pet, who was a cat. Clover is also a nitrogen fixer. I never thought about planting nitrogen fixers into the scarce dirt of a potted tree, but this clover plant seems to know what its doing. There is no clover around my house. I have no idea how it got into the pot.

To the left you can see the spider plant that was given to me because it was dying, and to the right is the edge of the small long planter. I found that when they moved the office at my work. They didn't want it anymore.

This is the little long planter. My daughter planted a chamomile plant on the left. Another strawberry from the neighbor in the middle, and on the right is some basil I bought at the store that grew roots before we ate it all.

And then there are the stairs. They live in the dappled sunlight of the privet tree most of he day. The stairs are where plants go to be neglected. Rosemary, Aloe, and "The Succulent I Found Laying in the Middle of the Sidewalk." They don't seem to mind the neglect, though. My giant aloe plant is flowering even bigger than last year. I plan to give them all a little soil this year, and maybe some other upgrades. Maybe in a few months, the stairs will be lush and green.