Even though I initially said I was going to write a new post everyday, I did not update yesterday. Somehow life (and gardening) seem to stand in my way, which is perfectly fine with me because I love them both.
So, we did not make it up at the first hint of dawn yesterday like we'd hoped, but we came really close. We got up at 7am and worked for 2 hours before I drove Channing to work/school. It's amazing how much you can get done when you get out of bed early. I started out tilling dirt while Channing gathered more horse crap from the field behind our house. He got back when I was about half finished with the garden and started planting the tomatoes.
I was going along at a good pace, contemplating life, enjoying the feel of the morning sun, when Channing started shouting my name over the roar of the tiller's engine. I stopped, thinking something was wrong (of course), to see him holding out his hand in my direction. He was smiling. A small, white marble. Now, the normal person probably wouldn't view this as an exciting occurence. However, Channing knew what the marble would mean to me. You see, when I was a little girl, following my Daddy in the garden (see first post) he used to find marbles all the time when he tilled up the dirt. He always gave them to me and I kept them for years in an old Mrs. Buttersworth jar. In fact, I still have them. Those marbles are one of my dearest childhood memories. Now, my husband found a marble in our first garden together. Hopefully, the first of many yet to come.
We finished tilling the garden, planted the rest of the tomatoes and the peppers, and then Channing was off to work.
Today, was another day of good times in our garden. However, we didn't start in the morning. Our gardening today took place after school and work. We went to Lowes as soon as we were done for the day, bought weed blocking fabric, a tomatillo plant, and some pretty flowers, and then came home to do our daily labor.
This was a very productive day as far as visual results go. We made the strawberry bed and planted all of our strawberries (all 800lbs. of dirt and then some), and we planted everything, except for the beans, which will be sown tomorrow. Congrats to us - it actually looks like a garden!
We watered it with the soaker hose before we came in, and for the first time this year, I walked around barefoot outside . . . ahhh, the feel of soft dirt under my feet and grass weaving between my toes.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Does This Mean the Ground Wins?
So, as Channing says, "Farmers are super tough." We, however, are apparently not. This morning both of us reluctantly got out of bed stiff and aching. Late. Work and school prevented us from doing anything for the greater part of the day, but at 3:00pm, as soon as we were finished with everything necessary, we went to check out a greenhouse.
Unfortunately, the greenhouse had absolutely nothing we needed and not much of anything else, so to Wal-Mart (the bad place) we went. There we bought some edging for our strawberry bed, some red seed potatoes, and an assortment of seeds (beans, peas, lettuce, turnip, squash, corn, beets, and carrots). Lowes was next - black seed potatoes, onion sets, tomato plants, shallots, and peppers. We filled the back of our truck, which smelled less than desirable (Channing left minnows from our fishing trip 2 days ago back there), with garden goodies and brought our loot back home where it currently sits on the porch.
After our shopping spree, Channing went out to the horse pasture behind the house and scooped up wheelbarrow loads of manure to plow into our dirt. I washed some laundry and hung out on the couch (there are some days a lady feels bad enough without throwing horse poop into the mix). Six loads and a gash on the arm later, Channing came in sweaty and tired, so we decided to make a trip to Atwoods to buy soil for our strawberry bed. 800 pounds of soil. Yeah, that'll do it.
Now, about those plants. Yes, in order to have a functional garden we need to actually put them into the dirt. I promise it's going to happen. Tomorrow morning at six our lazy American butts will be outside tilling, raking, and planting.
Unfortunately, the greenhouse had absolutely nothing we needed and not much of anything else, so to Wal-Mart (the bad place) we went. There we bought some edging for our strawberry bed, some red seed potatoes, and an assortment of seeds (beans, peas, lettuce, turnip, squash, corn, beets, and carrots). Lowes was next - black seed potatoes, onion sets, tomato plants, shallots, and peppers. We filled the back of our truck, which smelled less than desirable (Channing left minnows from our fishing trip 2 days ago back there), with garden goodies and brought our loot back home where it currently sits on the porch.
After our shopping spree, Channing went out to the horse pasture behind the house and scooped up wheelbarrow loads of manure to plow into our dirt. I washed some laundry and hung out on the couch (there are some days a lady feels bad enough without throwing horse poop into the mix). Six loads and a gash on the arm later, Channing came in sweaty and tired, so we decided to make a trip to Atwoods to buy soil for our strawberry bed. 800 pounds of soil. Yeah, that'll do it.
Now, about those plants. Yes, in order to have a functional garden we need to actually put them into the dirt. I promise it's going to happen. Tomorrow morning at six our lazy American butts will be outside tilling, raking, and planting.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Digging up Grassroots: Us versus the Sod
Today Channing and I started our first garden together. Of course it's not something we did on a whim. Weeks of discussion, planning, and reluctance to ask the landlord's permission went into it. Channing finally asked yesterday, and this morning we got our very own roto-tiller. Well, thanks to my parents who bought it for my birthday.
After one trip to the hardware store last night (including the purchase of a shovel, hoe, rake, and mattic), lots of internet research and phone calls to everyone we know with gardens, we went to Atwoods this morning and purchased a Southland Roto-tiller, which luckily came fully assembled.
So, we started with a field of grass and ended up with a 50 ft. x 30 ft. plot of dirt. Sounds easy, right? Absolutely not, in no way at all was that an easy endeavor. In fact, it took most of our day and all of our energy. We took turns using the roto-tiller. I went first and lasted all of four minutes trying to control it over thick, fresh grass with intricate root systems. While Channing managed to get to the end of the first row before realizing that two of the blades were on backward, thus inhibiting the tillers ability to till dirt, I pulled pieces of grass, roots, and thick layers of sod up with the rake.
After Channing fixed the blades, the tiller was much more effective and easier to use, so I took my fair turn using it until we had made it through the first time. Then, we started raking up the grass into piles at each end. It was then we realized how useful a wheelbarrow would be, so Channing left to pick one up while I finished raking the grass out of our garden plot.
The smell of fresh dirt reminded me of all the times I used to follow Dad while he tilled up the garden when I was little. Our dog, Gooden, would follow behind me eating grub worms from the loose dirt while I jumped from one of Dad's footprints into another. As I grew up, I only helped with the parts of gardening I considered fun - picking tomatoes, eating strawberries, shucking corn - only sometimes did I hoe out the weeds or pluck potato bugs off of leaves. Now, I'm all grown up and this garden belongs to me and my husband. That means I have to rake the grass out of the dirt, untangle its roots, till up the dirt, hoe out the rows, set the plants . . . but it is the two of us and we can do it; the fun parts and the work are all ours.
When Channing got back with the wheelbarrow, we took a short break for lunch, eating avocado and cheese sandwiches and fruit salad on the front porch. Then, we went right back at it. I picked up the grass piles and dumped them in a corner of our yard for compost and Channing continued to tiller. After a while, I took a turn at it. We took our turns until we had plowed up the garden in alternating directions, ending with the way we wanted our rows.
Now all we have to do is plant stuff . . . (and fight weeds, drought, and pests) . . .
After one trip to the hardware store last night (including the purchase of a shovel, hoe, rake, and mattic), lots of internet research and phone calls to everyone we know with gardens, we went to Atwoods this morning and purchased a Southland Roto-tiller, which luckily came fully assembled.
So, we started with a field of grass and ended up with a 50 ft. x 30 ft. plot of dirt. Sounds easy, right? Absolutely not, in no way at all was that an easy endeavor. In fact, it took most of our day and all of our energy. We took turns using the roto-tiller. I went first and lasted all of four minutes trying to control it over thick, fresh grass with intricate root systems. While Channing managed to get to the end of the first row before realizing that two of the blades were on backward, thus inhibiting the tillers ability to till dirt, I pulled pieces of grass, roots, and thick layers of sod up with the rake.
After Channing fixed the blades, the tiller was much more effective and easier to use, so I took my fair turn using it until we had made it through the first time. Then, we started raking up the grass into piles at each end. It was then we realized how useful a wheelbarrow would be, so Channing left to pick one up while I finished raking the grass out of our garden plot.
The smell of fresh dirt reminded me of all the times I used to follow Dad while he tilled up the garden when I was little. Our dog, Gooden, would follow behind me eating grub worms from the loose dirt while I jumped from one of Dad's footprints into another. As I grew up, I only helped with the parts of gardening I considered fun - picking tomatoes, eating strawberries, shucking corn - only sometimes did I hoe out the weeds or pluck potato bugs off of leaves. Now, I'm all grown up and this garden belongs to me and my husband. That means I have to rake the grass out of the dirt, untangle its roots, till up the dirt, hoe out the rows, set the plants . . . but it is the two of us and we can do it; the fun parts and the work are all ours.
When Channing got back with the wheelbarrow, we took a short break for lunch, eating avocado and cheese sandwiches and fruit salad on the front porch. Then, we went right back at it. I picked up the grass piles and dumped them in a corner of our yard for compost and Channing continued to tiller. After a while, I took a turn at it. We took our turns until we had plowed up the garden in alternating directions, ending with the way we wanted our rows.
Now all we have to do is plant stuff . . . (and fight weeds, drought, and pests) . . .
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