My garden is a generous place, and so nothing much in it serves a single purpose. Freshly spread mulch is a cleansing chicken wallow. A watering system for the lettuce garden is a drinking fountain for lazy dogs. Hops shinning up a sling of wires will shade the front porch, feed the bees and later give tang to the home-brew projects of a friend or two.
Like generations of gardens before it, mine multitasks with intent and by happy coincidence. Without really thinking about anything more than making the most of the narrow strip of soil in the terraced cool-season beds, I installed a zigzag of trellis for English peas, leaving triangles in front for chard and kale, and in back for tender lettuce that needs cooling shadows in deep summer.
Soon, Jennifer and I will share with greater purpose, devoting two big raised beds at the back of her yard to the three sisters — tendrils of green beans sneaking up stalks of sweet corn, with squash protecting their tender roots. This ancient American Indian planting technique makes the most of small spaces and scant moisture, and builds soil fertility.
In modern application, it will nourish friends with scarce time and allow us to share in the conviviality of the garden and, perhaps, an abundant harvest. — Dana Coffield, The Denver Post
