gardenmonster.bsky.social
@gardenmonster.bsky.social
I started with a few pots on an apartment balcony and farm veggies on a 1/4 acre now. Feel free to holler if the books/YouTube/etc don't help and you have a question. 💚
And we all fall down.
November 21, 2025 at 5:36 PM
Not going to need to buy chicken stock...ever.

(Because I'm pretty sure this isn't even half of what he has planned.)
November 21, 2025 at 1:01 AM
Broccoli is tricky. I am, this year, a trickster.

Next year remains to be seen.
November 20, 2025 at 7:56 PM
Thanks to the frogs. To the unicorns and axolotls. To the trombone players and the jazzercisers. Let's hold this line as long as we can.
November 20, 2025 at 3:17 PM
Rebel. Resist. Disobey.

All different ways to avoid what outside entities claim you're "supposed to do."

This Yarrow takes its solitary stand against the incoming winter. The rest of the thousands have followed the expectations of the season and their upbringing, long gone to ground. #stillirise
November 19, 2025 at 3:02 PM
What do you mean, "I got something on my face"?
November 16, 2025 at 7:38 PM
The mass exodus halted by ignorance.
November 9, 2025 at 5:02 PM
A dripping hose may not freeze, but the fence had other plans last night.
November 7, 2025 at 1:56 AM
But hey, Fort Worth (Texas Trump Town, not Texas Blue City) did the thing.
November 5, 2025 at 2:44 PM
"What do you mean we have to move?"

My leased-land farm isn't going to work out for next year.

Almost wishing I had the awareness of a chicken, right now. At least for a short while.
November 5, 2025 at 2:39 PM
Spotted in the wild outside of a 5th grade classroom a few weeks ago.
November 3, 2025 at 10:08 PM
Apple cider vinegar stock is restocked.

Later: chicken stock stock will be restocked.

Because: jars de-stocked of tomato sauce, canned green beans, and peaches left them ready for questionable apples' stock offerings.
November 3, 2025 at 4:38 PM
November 2, 2025 at 8:38 PM
October 31, 2025 at 8:31 PM
There's still beauty. Kindness and care. There's still stillness, too, and on occasion - quiet.

Or perhaps not quite quiet. As your lifelong anchoring hope in the world trills a song not heard since that spring so many winters ago.
October 29, 2025 at 12:37 PM
Oakleaf Hydrangea would like you to forget the shenanigans and catastrophies for just a moment,

or perhaps an afternoon,

or even an entire day,

if you can.

Let it all go, frosty on the edges, burning at the center, ready to drop.
October 28, 2025 at 5:24 PM
We have to keep finding the magic. We simply have to.
And when we don't, or can't, that is when we must make it ourselves.

See the frosty faerie. Delight in the whimsy. Smile at the thought.
October 27, 2025 at 11:41 PM
Trying to do what I know is good for me. Even when I don't always want to.
October 25, 2025 at 9:21 PM
I'm not sure what is most important to do now about the future that's coming.

But no one ever has been.

These swans know what's most important to do now. Float. Eat. Bask. Preen.

Perhaps I'll spend the weekend swanning.

(I'm so glad I changed my commute.)
October 24, 2025 at 3:17 PM
There. All is well.
October 23, 2025 at 11:06 PM
"... For awhile."
October 23, 2025 at 12:06 AM
Keep looking.

As a dear friend of a long time told me recently, Nature adores an audience.
October 21, 2025 at 8:26 PM
@reprheingans.bsky.social testing testing, 123...
October 21, 2025 at 7:02 PM
I'm grateful that reality is still too beautiful for this technology to capture and hold still in time.

That moment is gone. Created just for that slice of forever, whether or not Sandhill Crane, Carpenter Bumble Bee, or lil ol' me cared to notice.

I'm trying (even more) to notice.
October 21, 2025 at 6:37 PM
Still looking for the little things.
October 20, 2025 at 12:44 PM