I mentioned yesterday that I was going to plant some garlic this fall. I even have some specially-purchased-gourmet-organic-garlic-in-many-intriguing-varieties this time, too. Usually I save all my sprouting-little-green-shoots garlic (which comes from who knows where because I buy it either in giant bags at Costco or bulk in the local grocery store) and stick them in the ground in the spring. Then I hope for the best. I have yet to get the best out of these little sprouts, sadly; they do alright, but only alright, so this morning, after reading one too many article detailing the best way to plant garlic, I told Richard at breakfast that we (as in the royal we) needed to build another bed. A bed for the garlic. Interestingly (or should that be "disturbingly"?) Richard didn't blink an eye. "Okay," was about all he said. Well, other than "what do you want it to be built from?" I wanted brick, because so much of the rest of the garden is decorated in Moldy Old Gray Brick, but that proved too pricy, so we settled for good old cedar planks. And there it is there, sitting ever so evenly on the ground in front of the bamboo. And lo but I even had enough compost left over to fill the thing (it's 1o' X 5').
Now, to plant the garlic.