Patience is a virtue

And one I'm proving to myself I don't have very much of.

I planted my very first garden Sunday evening.

Growing up, my dad had a garden in the backyard. But I wasn't that into it. I just knew not to touch the electric fence he put up to keep the dogs out.

My dad's garden was mostly raised beds of dried dirt filled with a messy jumble of vegetables that grow on vines-- cucumbers, squash, tomatoes. It wasn't very pretty.

Now I've planted my own garden in the little space next to my kitchen door in the back lot of my studio complex.

I think it's a lot prettier than anything my dad ever had going on, if not a bit less oriented towards produce. But it does have arugula and tomatoes, and even some cilantro.

And I'm so excited about my garden, that every time I get the chance, I peek out my kitchen door and look at it, hoping to see a change: flowers blooming, arugula leeves sprouting.

But it's only been two days since I transfered everything from plastic pot to soil ground, so nothing much has happened yet.

It kind of makes me want to yell to the poor gerber daisies, "Grow, god damn it!" And to the daffodils, "Come on, bloom already!"

But I stop myself.

And keep peeking out my kitchen door.