We used to live on land, in the ‘burbs, and had a decent little patch of land.
We had a yard in the front of the house and a yard in the back, which included a raised vegetable garden bed. We enjoyed (some of the time, anyway, depending on how big the job was, and how long we’d neglected working on the yard) weeding, mulching, planting, etc.
But then, we moved to a floating home, and the gardening turned into strictly container gardening.
Plants grow, and so do their roots, which means that I have to repot once every year in general. I do this in the spring, when the rain stops coming down constantly. It’s a job: Buy soil, lay out a tarp, pull every single plant out of its pot, loosen the (sometimes) root-bound roots, split the rhizomes, separate the bulbs… Don’t get me wrong—this is something I do just twice a year, for two consecutive weekends. This is NOTHING like getting half a yard of mulch and rushing to spread the stuff around my yard, while the sky is threatening to unleash its spiteful thunderstorm on our butts. Or having to deal with stopping the stupid slugs from devouring my dahlias, or constantly pulling the bane of my existence from the edge of my rock wall: the evil St. John’s wort and my neighbor’s lupine. Gardening while living on a floating home is a breeze. We have some neighbors who have tons of (good-quality, homemade) containers that hold fruit trees, veggies — you name it. Other neighbors have Zen gardens, with bamboo and coniferous trees. Our dream deck will contain some bamboo for privacy, herbs for everyday cooking, our young Japanese maple, and of course a ton of crocosmia flowers that flower in the summertime to lure the hummingbirds.