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.