The 3 1/2 inch screws sink into the 2′ by 6′ pine studs one by one. The shimmering, metallic screws whizzing through the soft wood squealing as they tighten down. Coupling this with the loud hum of an electric drill made for the first sounds of spring projects in my neighborhood.
I picked up the wood earlier that morning and got to work building a 5′ by 7′ raised garden bed. This will push the expansion of my garden from the backyard to the front, which receives more sunlight.
It’s a simple construction. Some 2′ by 6′ by 8′ studs, cut down and stacked, with the scrap 1′ sections used as braces in the corners. It only took about an hour and half to build, but I was proud of its simple construction. Didn’t use any plans, just my brain. Power tools. Hands. And a little homesteading how to.
I’ll be planting in it soon, we’re only a few weeks away from the last frost. But what has me excited is that, and this may not be to the delight of my neighbors, but I am embracing the mantra – “Grow food, not lawns.”
Basically, I plan on growing an edible lawn. Though, it will be neatly manicured with vegetables, hopefully growing in abundance, and look far more beautiful and lively than just mere grass. And not to mention much more sustainable.
In the near future important resources including, food, water and land are only going to increase in price, and decrease in size, and potentially availability. And in my opinion, it’s inarguably important that we learn to cultivate our own food and maximize our growing space by developing edible landscaping features.
Though, gardening has other benefits besides prepping for shit to hit the fan. I have come to respect nature and understand cycles. Planting. Growing. Harvest. Life and death, I feel, grow deeper meanings within a gardener.
I raise plants, gain an attachment, a fondness for them. I nurture them, and want them to do well. And to see something cause their demise, well, it affects me.
Asking myself, what could I have done differently? I study the death, signs, symptoms, what do they mean? Could I have saved that plant?
But I do go on, though discouraged. Life goes on. Planting again. Cycles.
So this simple wood box, humble in its appearance, will be the medium for change. My different outlook at food, lawns, and the way we’re living are all built in it.
Just a simple box and a simple idea.