When I moved in, the garden was still temporary.
Grow bags lined the fence.
Black landscape fabric over grass.
Healthy plants but no structure.
It worked. But it wasn’t finished.
By that point, I had already proven I could grow. The harvest was consistent. The plants were strong. But I knew if this was going to last, it needed more than containers sitting on grass.
It needed a foundation.
Not more plants.
Not more variety.
Structure.
Defined space.
A walkway.
Edging that marked intention instead of improvisation.
So I built it.
