My Balcony Garden

So, for the last couple of days I've been working on my garden. And by garden I mean a small collection of containers on my balcony. I miss having a yard sometimes. I miss cutting grass like I miss having a hole in my head, but everything else was nice. There's something satisfying about having something that you planted grow. I've done the best I can with the space I have. 

There are four window box-type things with herbs. One is devoted entirely to mint. (Not because I need that much mint, but mostly because mint just takes over and swallows up anything else you put by it. We bought several plants yesterday, and the boxes are looking not so bereft as they were before. 

And then the rest of the pots all have plants I've migrated out of the window boxes, stuff I've adopted (and/or stolen) from other people, and the hydrangea I won at Drag Queen Bingo at Monroes (who said all you ever get is shite wine and porn). 

It's not much, but it's a little bit of beauty I've helped contribute to in this tired old queen of a world. And yeah, I know gardening is a hobby for septuagenarians and those on permanent disability. But I like it, dammit. It's something to do that's not drinking or hanging out on the beach. And if I've put in a day's work (or more if you count the time it took for the rotten kitchen scraps to become compost) to make my balcony pretty it doesn't require any lip from the likes of you whippersnappers.