Rosalind
Deeply Rooted
So, today was the day for planting those "sow as soon as the ground can be worked" veggies: peas, lettuce, spinach, chard, winter cabbage, fennel, onion sets, a new type of poppy, cress. Upon careful review of the light requirements and my backyard shade patterns, it became obvious that the half of the garden that I had prepared last weekend was not going to be suitable, and I had to prepare at least 1/4 more of the garden. Since the part I didn't fertilize, mulch, dig last weekend was the really crummy part consisting of sand and a few weeds, it was gonna be a chore and a half.
Also, DH decided he was unhappy with the layout I had previously chosen and wanted the beds done some other way. Don't ask why, he only eats the veggies and does zero garden work at all, but he said he'd put in gravel paths and stepping stones for me if I did them his way. Like a sucker, I had him leave me a sketch and followed it, which meant I had to drag out big long half-rotten boards from this giant pile of bad lumber behind the barn and set them in the dirt.
This morning, while contemplating the enormity and back-breaking nature of the task at hand, also slightly hung over, I decided that a piece of leftover meatloaf, cookies and coffee for breakfast were the appropriate fuel that would enable me to muck out the Augean stables that are my barn and do the gardening.
The meatloaf had been in the fridge for a full week. Last night was a heavy metal concert at which my friend was bartending. You can see where this is going, right?
The closest bathroom to the garden is not in fact a modern restroom--it's the 300-year-old privy which has not been shoveled in, um, at least 75 years. At least it didn't stink. But there sure wasn't any 75-year-old TP around, and this being early March, there weren't any convenient leaves, either.
And so I am reminding you that in your prayers tonight, thank whatever deity you worship for the invention of modern plumbing and septic systems. Because antique outhouses are only quaint and cute if you don't HAVE to use one NOWNOWNOWNOW and you're also not the person who has to shovel it out after. Also thank deity that undies can now be washed by machine instead of by hand. Believe me, it is a blessing indeed.
Also, DH decided he was unhappy with the layout I had previously chosen and wanted the beds done some other way. Don't ask why, he only eats the veggies and does zero garden work at all, but he said he'd put in gravel paths and stepping stones for me if I did them his way. Like a sucker, I had him leave me a sketch and followed it, which meant I had to drag out big long half-rotten boards from this giant pile of bad lumber behind the barn and set them in the dirt.
This morning, while contemplating the enormity and back-breaking nature of the task at hand, also slightly hung over, I decided that a piece of leftover meatloaf, cookies and coffee for breakfast were the appropriate fuel that would enable me to muck out the Augean stables that are my barn and do the gardening.
The meatloaf had been in the fridge for a full week. Last night was a heavy metal concert at which my friend was bartending. You can see where this is going, right?
The closest bathroom to the garden is not in fact a modern restroom--it's the 300-year-old privy which has not been shoveled in, um, at least 75 years. At least it didn't stink. But there sure wasn't any 75-year-old TP around, and this being early March, there weren't any convenient leaves, either.
And so I am reminding you that in your prayers tonight, thank whatever deity you worship for the invention of modern plumbing and septic systems. Because antique outhouses are only quaint and cute if you don't HAVE to use one NOWNOWNOWNOW and you're also not the person who has to shovel it out after. Also thank deity that undies can now be washed by machine instead of by hand. Believe me, it is a blessing indeed.
