In January of this year, I sat nursing my infant son and looking out the window at my quiet, still garden. As all new mothers will understand, I was stuck to my couch for what felt like days at a time, a willing human mattress and latte stop for my ever-hungry boy. I couldn’t do much, but I could flip through seed catalogs and look up old garden plans and notes from seasons past.
It occurred to me that for the first season in the seven since I started growing vegetables rather seriously, I knew – at least a little bit – what I was doing. I felt like maybe I knew enough to share what I had learned.
And so I started this blog.
I had this idea that people within a few miles of me – in the Seattle area, maybe, or possibly as far as Portland or Vancouver, B.C., might find it useful to know when to stick their bean seeds in the ground or when to start transplants for fall crops. All that stuff that I learned through trial and error and too many failed crops, I thought I could share, and save fellow gardeners a season or two of learning the hard way.
In the past year, NW Edible has grown in scope and blown past my wildest expectations. Writing about the householder and gardening activities I love, and the challenges of it all, has introduced me to an incredible community of people, all doing the same kinds of things – urban homesteading, gardening, raising animals, working toward a productive home – not just in my neighborhood, but around the world.
I have heard this blog has inspired people to start their first little veggie patch, or made them shoot coffee out of their nose after reading a good, funny line. These things make my heart sing with pride and my nostrils tingle in sympathy.
It’s been rewarding and gratifying, and I fancy that maybe I am adding to the larger discussion in my own little way. As I write this, the blog has just crossed the 200,000 page view mark, which isn’t too shabby, I think. At a minute per view, that’s something like 139 days that you, the community of NW Edible readers, have given to reading my garden ramblings this year.
Thank you. I’m a girl who knows how precious every minute is. Thank you for the minutes you spend here.
Thank you. To everyone who has taken the time to read, to share on Facebook or Twitter or Pinterest, thank you. If you’ve commented, you’ve made my day, sometimes my week, and I thank you. If you’ve thrown a few bucks in the tip jar, your generosity has sent me into “happy dance” spasms in the living room. I didn’t know $2 could be so affirming, but it means the world to me. Thank you.
Thank you all, for an unexpected, mild-blowing, exhausting, late-night, well-fed, coffee-fueled, wine-unwound, whirlwind of a year. Thanks for making it so worthwhile to step up the keyboard and the camera.
And so, tonight I’ll raise my glass, and offer up a toast to you:
May you always have more than you need and want all that you have, may your vegetables ever outgrow your weeds, may your chickens lay daily and rarely molt, may your Felcos always stay sharp and never get lost in the rain, may cabbageworms never find your garden and earthworms never miss it, and may your peppers and tomatoes always ripen. Even in Seattle.
With love and best wishes for a very happy New Year.
See you in 2012.