Mother Nature is happy here.
I bedded the four swiss chard seedlings early — in a row — about a hand’s width apart — in holes made by my gloved fingers. The soil had not been turned at all and was covered with an inch or two of grungy, chunky, one-year-old compost which I had added the week before. After planting them, I sprinkled broken up duck-egg shells around them. I like the brightness of the white against the black and green and red.
Behind them, beside the rocks and favourite old sticks of wood, you can see the faithful garlic chives who never let me down.
And then the magic began: The dill seeds and mustard green seeds from the year before said, “We like this cradle too. We’re going to stay awhile longer.” And so they smile and continue to thrive here too.