This house came only with a very small back garden. It’s oddly situated, tucked around the back of the house, where none of my neighbors can see it but I get great views from inside the house. Because the whole garden is tucked in a nook a) it’s my “armpit garden” b) it’s also got great protection and serves as a pretty bitchin’ microclimate.
But the best part is that this garden is for no one but me. It’s mostly dark and moody- the dream garden of my inner 19 year old. Dark dahlias and way too much bronze fennel, Redbor kale is bolting all over town, towering like Godzilla, Borage is dripping here and there like spilled molasses and I seriously don’t even know why I have spared those gladiolas so long. I’ve already told you about the mannequin (why doesn’t she have a name already??) But you know what? It doesn’t matter. There’s no pressure to please, no need to weed unless I feel like it.
I feel this is an ultimate luxury.
A city building inspector came by to answer some questions about a shed. I jokingly asked if I needed a permit for the mannequin because he was STARING. He said he was surprised the neighbors hadn’t complained and then started to take in the siting genius that is the Armpit Garden, he realized you can’t complain about something you can’t see and gave up.
ALL HAIL THE ARMPIT!
If you can pull it off, get yourself an armpit garden. Man, there’s just something DEEP about it. At this point in my life, so few things are just about me. My armpit sure is.