March 27, 2007
I'll be sorry
Originally published March 31, 2006
I just couldn't stand it anymore. I worked on my garden today.
I took it nice and easy, going slowly and being careful not to hurt myself. I managed to spread another layer of fertilizer and plant four rows of Silver Queen corn, a row of potatoes, and two rows of green beans. I also have 24 okra plants, 12 tomato plants, a bunch of bell peppers, some crookneck squash, zuccinni, cucumber and banana peppers to stick in the ground tomorrow. I think I have room to work some melons in there, too.
Just the little bit of doing that I accomplished today hurt my belly and sent me hobbling off to wash down a couple of Pepcid tablets with some milk to put the fire out. (I save my painkillers for night time, or when I'm hurting particularly badly.) When I walked back into the Crackerbox this afternoon, I kept looking back over my shoulder to see if I was dragging any intestines on the ground behind me. It felt like I was...
I don't care if I WILL be sore and sorry tomorrow. Looking out my kitchen window every day at that tilled piece of land laying bare was driving me crazy. I never did get a load of compost from Mama's house, nor did I ever set all my landscape timbers, but I simply couldn't wait any longer. I declared my garden officially started today.
Once I get the other stuff in the ground tomorrow, I'll set up my sprinklers in strategic locations and just watch it grow. A land of milk and honey! Bounty from generous Mother Nature! Food I grew all by myself!
And best of all, it's all FREE--- except for the $200 or so I spent on seed, plants, fertilizer, cow shit, sprinklers, a new shovel, landscape timbers, a short-handled weeding rake, a "Y" fitting so that I can run two sets of sprinklers at once and the gallon of Roundup I purchased to start the entire process. Other than THAT investment, combined with hours of my own sweat, the garden is free.
I don't want to hear any shit about how I could do a lot better with $200 in the produce section of Kroger's Supermarket. Fuck you for even THINKING such thoughts. My homegrown vegetables taste better than anything you'll ever find in a store and growing them is good therapy for my warped mind. Wanna think clean thoughts? Get your hands dirty in the soil.
Pictures will be forthcoming, if I live long enough to take them.
All content © Rob Smith