The Grapes of Wrath

It was a sad sight to behold.
Layers upon layers of victorious, arrow-shaped heads claiming victory over the a wobbling trellis. Ash trees grew between the twisted wire, providing peeks for the invading vine to announce it's achievement to the world. No one would guess there was a grapevine residing there which had provided wine and jelly for generations of families. A few brittle skeletons showed that it had managed to produce tiny clusters of grapes this last season, despite the choking enemy.
That's when I showed up, armed with shears, a hatchet, a hoe and yes, a pair of scissors used to cut paper. The hoe graciously lent by my brother, is a special sort that cuts. It cut my work by days. I know, because I've gone to this very same war in the past.
The first thing I did was use that hoe to pull away the debris that stockpiled at the base and cut the roots of the vines, leaving the little buggers to die, creating a collage of dead leaves, and the live ones who had escaped by sheltering against the trees or trellis.
I showed no mercy and took no prisoners. Cutting away layers of the vine, brushing away ladybugs, flicking an occasional roach, even taking the hatchet to the base of the ash trees. Four days of work and the vine saw the light of day.

Then I bought another vine. The seedless sort made for eating. It's two-year-old stock. My father suggested we build it it's own trellis so we did. It's currently planted in the old trellis because I planted it before he came down. I had to leave for five days just after putting it up, so I haven't had a chance to prepare the ground.
Speaking of preparing the ground.
I was going to try something called "Lasagna gardening" or "layer gardening" this year as I have no idea how the soil will preform in this area. I have plenty of grass clippings from the field across the street. I raked some leaves last fall. Other than that, I have no money so coming up with the 'layers' has been a challenge. I have access to a few newspapers from the recycle box in a small museum that I volunteer at. I can get cardboard boxes from a few local places. I might be able to secure coffee grounds from a local coffee shop. But I have no peat, manure or bonemeal as some people suggest.
Therefore my garden will have to be a sort of 'mixture' between traditional and layering. We'll see what happens.
Anyhow, so project one is done and here is the final result. I should have taken a "before" picture but it was forgotten in the heat of battle. The grapevines can see the light of day. The new vine will likely be replanted in its future home tomorrow. This year I'll watch it for dead vines that need to be cleared away, and perhaps manage to make some jelly out of the grapes. I don't drink wine and they're really not good for anything else. But it will be fun to keep up part of an old family tradition.

The Inheritance

Once upon a time, the Big, White House had an herb garden, a small vineyard, an orchard including fig, pear, apple and a few other trees. It had bulbs surrounding the house including Spider Plants and Easter Lillies and Paper Whites. It probably had other things as well, though according to family tradition, a garden couldn't be grown because some sort of local pest ate up all the roots.
Then the family moved away and the big, white house sat empty. The apple tree met an untimely and unrecorded end. The grapevines were covered with mile-a-minute pest that lived up to its name and piled so heavily that it began to compost on the vine. The pear tree continued to produce for years, despite harsh winds, a few tropical storms, drought and invasion by the vine that was choking out the grapes, each year struggling under rotted limbs to produce a few of its once abundant and delicious fruits.
The Easter Lilly and Paper Whites survived workers who came and leveled the Big, White House and more workers who resided and began blooming. Except one Paper White flower who was plucked by a little girl who spied it while waiting for her older sister to finish piano lessons in the big, white house. It went home with the happy child and its fate remains unknown.
It was to this landscape that I arrived - the fifth generation of family to live in the Big, White House since Mr. Millard Lipscomb ordered and built the home from a Sears and Roebucks house kit around 1904. My name is Lindsey and here I record all my misadventures while trying to restore the family home to it's former glory.
A few things you should know about me.
1. Projects always look better in my head than they turn out with in 'real life.'
2. I find half the fun in experimentation - it reminds me to give myself permission to learn and grow.
3. I have grown gardens before, but my experience is limited - especially in the climate of the Texas Coast.
4. I am a twenty-something of very limited means and therefore must rely on a make-do mentality.
5. My first garden here might look like something from the Depression Era as I have just enough money to get seeds, with little or nothing left for soil amendments or pretty boarders.

Got the picture?
All righty then. Pull up a chair, have a cup of tea (hopefully one day I can offer you a cup of fresh leaves from my garden) and come along for the ride as I can see if I can bring the land around the Big, White House to life again. I can't promise you it will be successful, but it will be amusing, interesting and perhaps at times downright eccentric.