Our garden is going in. Each night a few more things get planted. Each weekend, I stop at The Mill for a few more packets of seeds.

I have to admit, I'm not doing much gardening. Dan is the master-gardener in this house. My main job is chief errand-runner, chief "what to plant" decision-maker.

My work doesn't really kick-in until mid to late summer when things start appearing, needing to be harvested and cooked up and frozen and canned.

I'm guilty of being very ambitious in the cool, crisp days of Spring when anything feels possible and enthusiasm is at its peak. Unfortunately when my work really begins to matter we are in the dredges of hot, humid, sticky summer days when the last place I want to be is bent over a steaming pot in my sticky, non-air-conditioned farmhouse kitchen. Summer tends to suck the life out of me.

So each year we try to make a few adjustments to what we plant. Last year, we (probably me) made the mistake of putting in way too much corn. Even with staggered planting it was too much. In summer's heat I was never very enthusiastic about a large pot of water boiling in my kitchen and I lost all enthusiasm for slicing corn off ears, blanching and freezing.

So this year, there's no corn. I'll simply get what I want, when I want it, from a local farm stand.

This year there are more grean beans. More onions. More potatoes. There will be tomatoes, despite last year's disastrous crop that was almost a complete loss. There is spinach. And cabbage (for my cole-slaw loving child), and brooccoli.

I am no green thumb. In fact, I wear green gardening gloves just so that I can pretend to have one. Each year, we learn something new. Adjust, change our plans, make vows for next year's garden.