So, How Does Your Garden Grow

　

Having grown up on a farm, where my grandfather raised vegetables to sell, I have had a lifetime to learn how to garden. Yes, my age precedes my knowledge however. Just when we think we "know it all" along comes that simple little word. oops!

Well, around here most of the days are filled with that simple little word, and we are used to the oops happening quite often. Having learned how to not spend too much time or energy on them, life goes along quite nicely...most of the time.

On this particular year, I had decided to expand my garden a good bit. I had a whole new place dug up for it. Now, not being one to actually love pulling weeds, and such, I had a great idea! I would cover the entire thing with plastic. This would keep all the weeds and unwanted plant like materials out of my garden. My husband thought this was an ok idea, but he didn't want to pull any weeds before we put the plastic down. He was sure that it would keep all the weeds from coming through. Well, I didn't care for that idea so much, but we proceeded to put the plastic over the entire garden.
As we laid it down and stood back to admire how lovely it worked, the wind came up, as if to say, Aha! Got 'cha! The lovely black plastic took off with the wind, playing along up and down and twisting into a tight rope. We ran around trying to find an end that we could grab hold of, oh no, not today, said the wind. The plastic laughed at us, lifting itself higher off the ground and turning a pirouette, as pretty as if it had taken dancing class before we arrived. My husband was winded and thoroughly disgusted at this point, telling me that he had been right and this was a bad idea.

Ha! I would show him, as I continued to jump in the air to catch it between my clumsy fingers. Finally, I get hold of an end and drag it with me to the pile of cinder blocks piled not too far away. I grab the blocks and begin to trap the plastic beast under them. Now I've got you my pretty...oh but you will try to fly won't you? My husband proceeded to help haul the blocks over to the plastic as we inched it along over the garden spot. Completing the task and standing again like humans, not bent over the now, rolling like a sea of plastic, we looked at out work. Looking at each other, and trying to catch our breath, we start to laugh. It had taken an hour to get this far, and we still had to find another, better way to hold it down.

We decide to take a break and get a cup of coffee to ponder the problem. Now, you must have figured out by now, that as this was my idea, and not my husbands, I would have to make it work, with no help in that direction from him. Suddenly, I remember my best friend, duck tape. Yes, we have been friends for many years, and held hands through many a walk, talk, fix, repair and so and on.
My son had left a box of welding rods in my truck, and I grabbed them too. Bending the rods into a U shape, I am set to go. I crawl along the edge of that black plastic and duck tape it, then poke my rod through it and stick it in the ground.

My husband, being a man, stood back and frowned, telling me that it would never work. Of course not, it was too simple to work, in a man's world of thinking. Well, my motto is, try it, it can't hurt..too much. My pride would certainly take a dip into the old well of, I wish he hadn't seen me do this if it didn't work, but too late now. Anyway, after I had made my way down one whole side and the wind seemed to be trying to pry it up without success, my husband begins to help. Finally, we have tied down the whole garden in black plastic and duck tape. I stand back proudly and look up at the wind, how do you like me now wind, I cry out.

Ha ha, it tries to answer with another whip of stronger wind, but is defied, it's fight to maintain it's power is gone. I have won.

Well, needless to say the garden was planted, with much crawling around on that plastic. Hallelujah! No dirt ground into my knees, and even my shoes were clean. This was a miracle I thought, as I watched my lovely plants began to grow day by day. As they grew, I would cut the plastic a little further away from the base of each plant to give it plenty of room to grow. This was the best laid plan I had ever come up with.
I took so much joy from that garden, as I watered it and fertilized it, making sure to pull any little blade of grass that would dare to sneak in around the plants. My garden grew more lovely every day.

The tomato's had reached up to the sky, and were as tall as me, with hundreds of little tomatoes hanging from their branches. Now, as with all things great, something has to interfere, oh no, not my husband...yet. Little bugs were sucking the life out of my beautiful plants, we would have to spray the plants in order to save them from the horde of lively bugs. My husband agreed to take care of this for me, he would be much better at it than me he said, and I felt so loved. He proceeded to spray the entire garden as I went happily off on my lawn mower, riding in the sun and feeling content as it warmed me.

Later in the day, as I was preparing dinner, my husband came in the door and stood still. The look on his face was beginning to scare me, I was sure one of the animals had died, or god forbid, someone. He looked down at his feet and said he had some bad news...bad, bad news. I wait, standing still and feeling as though the news will be really bad, I get ready to cry, I like to be prepared for this sort of thing.
Finally he tells me to walk outside. Oh no! He has wrecked the truck! He is going to show me some big bent up part of the truck. He takes me by the hand and leads me to the garden....I stop, dead in my tracks, about 20 feet from it.

My giant, beautiful tomato plants had curled and bent almost to the ground, each leaf turned brown on the edges. They were dying right before my eyes. How in the world...they were just wonderful this morning...I look at my husband, and he takes a step back, putting his hands up in defense of what might be swinging his way. He apologizes, over and over, saying it wasn't his fault. He couldn't have done anything to them. They bent further as we stood and watched. I walk slowly over to the garden, and go all the way to the end. Every single plant was in a state of dying. It was the most pitiful sight I had ever witnessed, not my husband, the garden. Oh, but he would be in the same state shortly too. My wrath was building in my brain, as I felt myself shudder. I would have to stay calm and take hold of my true emotions, or I would soon be attending a funeral for sure. I do calm down in a few moments, however my hands continued to clench and unclench, with no control on my part to stop them. My husband was watching my hands closely now, ready to run if need be.

As I stood with tears running down my face, (I knew that would get him) I very quietly ask, "Did you wash the sprayer first?" He screamed at the top of his voice,"Yes! Of course I did!"
I look over at the huge sprayer by the porch. "How about the hose?" I asked, even lower than before. He begins to shake, and tremble..."I thought I did." The sprayer had been used for weed killer on the fences.
He hangs his head down and begins to take the blame for the tragedy before us. Of course, after every other word, he says,"All that money! Gone!" As I watch him wring his hands and shake his head, seeing how much misery he is in, I begin to feel a little better. Yes I do. He had murdered my entire garden, and I wanted him to suffer! I wanted him to cry like a girl!
Well, I walked over to the water hose and began to wash those plants. It didn't do any good though, they were gone! Shrunken to a pitiful brown, unrecognizable weed, of no use at all.

Now, the moral of this story is, always know how to do everything you really need to get done yourself , feel sorry for no one, especially the one that murders your garden. Oh, and at least make the doer of the deed, suffer for a good long while, like every time you put a tomato on his plate, and smile.