By Kelly Kilpatrick
Propagator
I bought my first house last year and was overjoyed to have
a garden that was truly mine. I would finally have space to
grow all my favorite plant buddies and to try some new ones.
My first task was to remove the fence-to-fence concrete in
the backyard and to kill the front yard lawn. The death of
the lawn was a slow, ugly process that I’m sure left
my neighbors thinking I had a hopelessly black thumb and that
I was sure to become a blight on the neighborhood. But soon,
with the lawn and concrete gone, it was time to plant. I was
lucky to have a willing helper in my husband. He was less
interested in the names of the plants and
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more interested in the garden becoming a jungle
as soon as possible. I swear he was out there with a ruler
measuring growth and pouting when the plants didn’t
grow fast enough to suit him. (Not every plant is a Kudzu
honey! Thank goodness.)
“I The young girl who lives across the street was also
fascinated with what we were doing. Every weekend when we’d
bring out the shovels she’d be astonished and exclaim
“more plants!?!” One day she decided to count
all the plants. The number she ended up with surprised even
me. “I have that many plants?!”
She always wanted to help with planting and loved to
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