My attitude towards gardening is one of experimentation. You see, I have a first story apartment. Sure, I have a nice sized patio. Directly on top of it, growing the most lovely garden in the full sunlight, is my upstairs neighbor's patio. Most other direct sunlight is cut off by the next door apartments which are also two story.
Of course, most of the plants I want to grow ask for direct full sunlight. At best, I have weak, indirect sunlight, for a few hours.
Now, I could just listen to the advise of experienced gardeners and books and resign myself to a life of shady gardening, complete with half a dozen ferns and shade-loving-flowers. But that's not my style. I'm not really a flower kind of girl.
I must have fruit.
And look how it's paid off!
Ok, so there is only one and I haven't eaten it yet, so who knows what my abuse has done to the flavor of the thing, but I'm proud. And I have unexpected sources to thank for this miracle.
I've had these strawberry plants for almost a year and a half and have really been doing my best to slowly kill them with lack of sun (and sometimes, water). Then, suddenly, this one (seperate from the others) starts doing remarkably well. What could it be?
That's when I noticed that all the flowers are facing away from the sun. Instead, they face the white wall of my apartments exterior. Briefly I consider the idea that the sunlight bouncing off the walls is somehow brighter than the actual sunlight.
But no. My eyes move up the wall and the answer comes to me.
A few months ago, before my strawberries perked up, some slightly brutish looking men came and replaced the lights above all the doors of apartments. The new, bright halogen lights installed are possibly strong enough to actually scare away robbers and rapists.
Or convince feeble minded strawberries that they are actually the sun, as they shine on them all night long.