Day 227: Between the back wall of my house and the detached garage, there is a strip of ground roughly 10 feet wide. A portion of the space is taken up by wood and concrete covers concealing an old well and a pit occupied by the captive-air tank which provides pressure to my domestic water supply. Weeds and tough grasses filled in the remainder when I moved in over thirty years ago, and after digging much of it out, I discovered that the underlying soil was too poor to support much of anything else. The plot became known as the Barren Wasteland, and I took it as a challenge to my horticultural skills. Much of what I planted there failed quickly, either not germinating or not returning the following year. I threw out packages of "wildflower mix," knowing that I'd have to weed out some of the invasives which the packages promised were "selected for your area," but I needn't have worried because for many years, the only success story was written in California Poppies, something I really didn't want to take over my yard. I dug, I weeded, I added modest soil amendments as the budget would allow (after all, I wasn't planning to grow vegetables in the plot), and I transplanted a few durable natives in the hopes that their chemistry would begin to convert the soil to something more plant-friendly. Likewise, I moved a few favourites in from the other flower beds and eventually, the Barren Wasteland began looking less barren. Today, you wouldn't recognize it as waste ground. Admittedly, it's shaggy and unkempt: a "cottage garden," if you will, with no organization, no structure, a testament to those survivors who now possess it with a determined grip, including a few surprise Calendulas which drifted in on a favourable wind and decided to settle there.
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