Of course, one of my biggest excuses has been gardening. I attacked the neglected beds in the side yard, ripping things out, turning over soil, working into it some of my homemade compost (which though not pretty, I am thrilled with - at least anything recognizable like banana peels or ears of corn have completely broken down) and of course, planting.
You remember that we have a tight budget. I conveniently put this thought aside and filled the center bed with tomatoes, peppers and onions, one side bed with herbs, one with pathetic looking zinnia, sweet pea, and cosmo starts (and a rosebush that surely will not survive my "care"), another bed with better looking bean and zucchini starts, and the last holds the successful strawberry plant which came to us via Tashmica's garden. It was joined by another strawberry plant and a pumpkin plant Anna started at school that probably didn't thrive enough under her "care" to really take. I also footed for two hanging baskets and a gorgeous dahlia Anna discovered and refused to part with. It took the place of a foxglove that didn't make it from last year. And I also had to get a geranium and put it in an old pot. I have an attachment to geraniums in old pots. Funny, because I hated geraniums as a kid. But I've read so many fiction novels between childhood and now that took place in English cottage gardens.
The money itself isn't a huge deal - lots of that will be food to feed my family. IF that food is not eaten by neighborhood pests. AKA: deer.
My neighbor shook her head sadly when she saw me working in my yard and informed me that she was officially tired of fighting the deer, and asked her husband to grass over her plot. A deer was prancing around in mid afternoon yesterday, running down the street. I found some old fencing under the deck and sectioned off the zucchini and beans. Jeff said hardly any fencing keeps deer out. I planted marigolds, onions, and other smelly things amongst everything. I sprayed and will continue to spray my mixture of garlic and chili pepper on the leaves of everything. (This worked in my community garden in the middle of the woods in Michigan. That and the law of averages....)
The neighbor boys have tents pitched in their yard and slept outside there the past two nights. Great deer control, but tonight is a school night so that party is probably over. I thought about asking them to consider the arrangement for the summer, sans the movie theatre their dad rigged for them on the deck.
Every year, I plant a garden. Whether or not I have money or time, I have to grow something in the warm months. It used to be that my garden was far away, and it was an ordeal to weed or water. Now my hose reaches, and I can pull up stray weeds a few minutes every day. If not deer, it would be the suspect amount of sun my plots receive, on account of the lovely woods behind my house that keep it cool (and probably encourage the deer). It would be summer classes. It would be something.
Many years, I tell Jeff to remind me what a pain it is. He just smiles and says nothing. He knows me. He knows I have a strange need to work my muscles to exhaustion and flirt with skin cancer. Though we work so hard to stay on a budget, he says nothing and gives me no mean looks when my garden purchases threaten to derail our summer budget.
The inevitable day will come when I post a lament about the annihilation of my tomato plants. I am typically not a risk taker, definitely not a betting woman. Except when it comes to a garden. It's always the point at which heart trumps brain, and I throw it all in. It is better than online poker or hanging out in casinos, don't you think? Or is that the addiction talking?
No comments:
Post a Comment