My name is Cheryl Croucher. I’ve been gardening for a few decades now. I’ve learned a thing or two over the years but in no way would I consider myself an expert. Mostly I garden because I can. My yard is huge, the remains of an acreage that once comprised an entire city block. There used to be a dairy to the west by Mill Creek. An elderly resident once told me when she first moved into the area, a few people still kept cows. My farmhouse dates from 1931. The property is surrounded now by infill development that is voraciously consuming what’s left of the post-war houses built during the 1950’s and, more importantly from my perspective, their yards and gardens.
I love my yard and the lush garden landscape it has become since I moved here in 1986. The yard has changed lots over the years. Probably my biggest decision was to remove all the grass – from the front street clear through to the back lane. It wasn’t so much that I don’t like grass. Rather I was annoyed at the tiny maple and elm twigs that littered the lawn and continually plugged the blades of the push mower every time I tried to cut the grass. An electric mulching mower solved that problem for awhile – until it broke. By that time I had my sights set on something much grander than Kentucky bluegrass.
In 1995 I started to keep a garden journal. 2020 marks a quarter century of documenting what shapes my garden – the plants, the projects, the parties, the weather. Mostly it has been one big experiment. An obsession. A muse.
To celebrate in this year of 2020, I am documenting the garden with this blog so that I may share it with others and so that I may create a memoir for myself.
Enjoy.