It would be difficult (and time-consuming) to add that up, but especially if you buy organic vegetables, you will save money. Last year I purchased two kale plants and at the time I bought them I thought they were sort of expensive, I think they were over a dollar apiece. But they produced enormous amounts of kale for many months, until our weather got really hot in the early summer. I think I could have kept them alive through the summer if I had tried, but I needed the space for other things, and by then the kale leaves were tasting bitter. But for all those months, I noticed that organic kale of the same variety at the farmers market was about $4 a bunch. If I had bought just one bunch each week I guess would have saved between $80 and $100 just on kale. I was eating at least that much of it, and giving more away. Then there was the organic looseleaf lettuce I grew. I paid $2 or $3 for a large packet of mixed seed (still using it this year) and also supplied myself, friends, neighbors, and co-workers. Organic lettuce was going for $2 to $3 a head but since I cut my lettuce leaves with scissors and let them regrow from the roots, I used the same plants all fall and winter and spring and saved an awful lot of money for myself and others. Beets were another good example. They are ridiculously easy to grow and a seed packet seems to last a lifetime. Yet organic beets (heck, even non-organic fresh beets) are very expensive at the market. Not every vegetable provides such a drastic cost comparison, of course. Zucchini squash is usually pretty cheap at the store, and of course it produces so much on the vine that you want to pay people to take it off your hands. Some other vegetables can be bought cheaply, although if you buy only organic vegetables most of those will cost twice as much as non-organic and that makes your cost comparison with homegrown a little more meaningful. But as most every gardener points out, the taste of homegrown food is much better, and the knowledge that food you grew yourself is safe for you and your family is priceless. When you factor in pride of accomplishment, convenience at cooking time, and the joy and pleasure of being close to nature, the value of gardening rises exponentially.

Aman32, What our village does (and most of the surrounding area) is when you run your water, they automatically assume it's going down the drain (indoors) when you're done with it. So not only do you pay the cost of water, but you also pay the cost of the sewer for that water. The village has no idea where I'm putting the water, they just assume it's going down the drain. So even if I water outside, they still assume, the water is entering the sewer systems, even though it isn't. So to offset that, a second water meter can be installed that just monitors outdoor water usage. The village knows that water isn't going down a sewer drain. So they don't charge sewer for that water usage. I'm not sure how other areas are, but our sewer charge is more expensive than the water charge. So essentially we'll decrease our water bill by more than half by installing a new meter. It cost about $550 to install. But we'll easily make that up in about 5-6 months of peak outdoor water usage just because we won't be paying for sewer on top of it. Does that make more sense?

Otis, It definitely makes tilling the garden a breeze. I can do the entire 60 x 80 garden in about an hour. That's two passes in 2 directions. It makes turning this clay into nice soil relatively easy. Thanks, for the info swanz. That makes sense since I added 2" last year and some spots are still dark and rich but others look depleted. I'm sure I didn't get it on even in the spring since it was a little muddy when I tilled. When I broke ground for this garden there was not a worm in sight. After a couple years of adding manure and compost I finally have a good worm population.

Gean, I have thought about that, and my ideas on the subject are these: I have no moral obligation to conduct my life so as to avoid possible waste on the part of posterity. How can I know anyway what will happen after I'm dead, and, as long as I'm responsible and positive in my lifetime, why should I worry about it? True, perhaps the garden will end up in the hands of insensitive jerks who will bulldoze it, but on the other hand it may become the property of unspeakably thrilled horticulturalists. If I don't have to sell our place out of financial necessity before I die, it will go to our daughter. There's a good chance she won't want to live here--but then perhaps she will--and I don't think she's going to be a fanatical gardener like me--but maybe I'm mistaken. Or she could marry a husband who loves to garden. Or I could establish a foundation to maintain the garden and keep it open for visits and teaching. I don't know what the future will bring. About the maintenance, I already have more garden than I can keep up with. As I said, the reason I'm in such a hurry now is because I want to get the heavy work done while my husband can still do it: we need to dig our holes NOW, and afterwards the lilacs can grow in peace. I don't see why I shouldn't be pruning roses, pulling grass, and repotting plants when I'm eighty. My desire has always been a low-maintenance garden, without watering system, elaborate fertilizing regimen, or plants that require a significant amount of work on an ongoing basis. Peonies are my kind of plant: once you've dug the holes and planted them, you're basically done forever. I work on getting the soil in good condition and then planting it with plants that will grow well, protect each other, suffocate weeds, and so on: I'm working on creating a relatively stable ecosystem. Obviously it will never be completely labor free, being a garden, but I think I can make a garden that will be able to stand up to some neglect. My garden isn't a financial investment: the money comes from income that's there to spend, not out of retirement savings. I'm like cweathersby: my money goes to the garden, and most of the garden money goes for plants. My clothes come from Goodwill, and I shop there on half price day. The car we drive is the worst wreck in the township. I don't care: what matters to me are the hyacinths I planted years ago that come up faithfully, and to my surprise appear to be seeding as well. I didn't know hyacinths did that. The peonies that are budding now, the snow crocuses that have somehow spread down into the big garden, the wildish area where the Viburnum burkwoodii is getting ready to flower and where the wild hellebore we transplanted two years ago has caught and is growing. The garden is a possible source of future income, all the same. I think it can be a workable display and teaching garden, something our province can really use. I'd hope to earn at least enough money to hire help now and then to keep the garden going. I don't believe I'm going to starve in old age, but I have no expectations of even relative affluence. The garden is an investment in another sense: when I can no longer afford to buy many new plants, I'll have a good supply of material to swap for plants, and to give as gifts. If you can give, you're rich. A final word about bulldozed gardens. Human life is full of waste: I realize this when I see old abandoned houses and barns around here that are fine examples of brick- and stonework and that are collapsing because no one has any use for them any more. Lord help us, just think of war. Yes, my garden may meet a dreary end one day--or it may not--but does that mean it wasn't worth doing? And not just for my own joy. I profoundly believe that my garden is not just for me: I certainly don't deserve such a large and magnificent share of the world's largesse. I don't want to be like the giant who chased all the children out of his beautiful garden so he could enjoy it all on his own. I give cuttings and rooted plants, bits of succulents, bulbs and iris tubers. Even if my garden is destroyed (and maybe they'll miss some of the better hidden parts), it will live on in other people's gardens. When someone comes to visit the garden and see plants she's never heard of, or roses such as she didn't know existed, or a style of gardening that she didn't know was possible--carries those memories away and perhaps puts some of them into practice in her own patch of ground--my garden will live. Permanence--immortality--call it what you will--is not the issue: the patient, fatiguing, and often frustrating cultivation of goodness and honesty and beauty is. To quote Dickens, who is writing about a man's death at the end of a rightly lived life: "It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall down when released; it is not that the heart and pulse are still; but that the hand WAS open, generous, and true; the heart brave, warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow the world with life immortal!" As the actions of the good man live after his death, so the shared garden will never die. Melissa