Craving dirt under my nails

For fourteen years, I had nearly an acre of land with oak, maple,holly trees and two more I never identified.  I had azaleas, roses, irises, sunflowers, caladiums, snowball bushes and crape myrtles, and the most gardening I ever did was mowing and occasionally feeling macha with electric hedge trimmers. There was so much yard work I had to do that I never got around to doing what I wanted to do.  Now, I have a small concrete patio, and gardening is on my mind.

The southern heat and a yard that was too much for me to properly tend always made me feel guilty.  It could have been beautiful, but I just wasn't up to the job.  Now, it's officially spring.  Everywhere I look, trees and flowers are blooming. (The last windy, rainy day, I was almost as covered with pear blossoms as I was with rain drops.)  My car is coated in green pollen.  If I spend too much time on the patio, so am I.  I don't feel guilty.  I'm excited.

At the end of the patio is a window box (if you can call it that without a window over it).  I've bought the coconut liner.  I've got the bag of potting soil.  I've got my baker's rack on the patio.  I'm collecting containers that used to serve other purposes.  Now I just have to decide what I'm going to plant.  I know I want something blooming that will cascade over the window box.  I know I want a fern.  I know I'll plant rosemary, sage. basil, thyme, garlic and chives.  I want purple, blue and white flowers. I want fragrance to surround me on the sweaty summer nights.

I always kept houseplants (until the cats ate them all), but I don't know anything really about gardening.  I'm looking forward to learning, and I think a visit to Home Depot is in the near future.