by Talia Murphy

Created on: August 12, 2009   Last Updated: October 23, 2009

Let me just say right off the bat, that this is a true story. I hope you'll have empathy, as it's hard to expose ones own ignorance, but I must tell the truth, pitiful as it is. My year living in Vermont was one of the happiest and most nerve wracking adventures of my life. It all started when I decided to move to be with a my heart's desire. I packed my bags and took that giant leap into the unknown, as I'm prone to do.

Going from an urban, southern city to a rural, sparsely populated border town was pure and utter culture shock. Where I lived in the city, crime was rampant and my neighborhood was so densely populated you could spread your arms out and touch one house to the next. My new Vermont home sat on a rolling hill that had once been a cow pasture, overlooking a beautiful wooded expanse that looked like a picture postcard. There was only one house within view and absolutely no reason to lock the doors.

My first goal when I arrived was to plant a garden. I had visions of myself picking my beautiful bounty of fresh vegetables in a long flowing gauzy summer dress wearing a large brimmed straw hat. Ah, what a beautiful, romantic vision. Just like in the magazines. I chose to locate the garden, behind the house. Since it had once been an open pasture, I had to rototill and rocks had to be removed by hand, before leveling the soil and preparing to plant the seeds. This was a very arduous process. It was getting hotter each day and the black flies found me particularly appealing and sweet. By the end of the afternoon, my muscles ached and my skin itched from those tiny devils that tormented me.

Once the seeds were planted, I sat back to wait. The days became hotter still and there was no rain in sight. I realized that without rain, by crop was going to suffer. It wasn't until then that I noticed an area in the front yard that looked like it had once been a garden. It ran the opposite direction of my garden and was close to the outdoor faucet. I was morose. How could I have missed such a thing? I must have been blinded by my enthusiasm.

Needless to say, my crop was sparse and short lived. I may have screwed up my first garden, but I learned a valuable lesson. Gather as much information as possible from the experts, then proceed cautiously. But by all means, proceed. Oh, and I learned to plunge brussel sprouts on the stalk into boiling water to purge the worms.

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