In which I forgot something...

So, late this morning I gathered up my best laid plan along with my plants and seeds and went to discover the fun of planting.

As I rounded the front corner of the house, twenty-two 40-pound bags of dirt screamed "Surprise!"

Oh...yeah, right...

I'm not going to lie that I had a vague and apparently futile hope that overnight the bags of soil (twenty-two at 40 pounds each, mind you) would be neatly distributed into the garden plot by happy little dirt fairies.  You know, kind of like in the story about the shoemaker and the elves.

I stared dejectedly at the pile large pile of mocking bags.  Well, shit...

Cursing the lack of dirt fairies, I put down my cardboard flat of plants and seeds and went to retrieve tools from the Shed of Pain.  (So far, the only thing I've surmised during this adventure is all yard work is torture.)  I would also like to point out that my husband informed me that he would be giving me no aid at all in this adventure.  Failing marriage or no, I would like for our SCA peeps to please remind him of the definition of chivalry, please.  Thank you.

Implements of suffering needed for this stage of gardening: a sturdy rake, a hand tiller, a box-cutter, and a resolve of friggin' steel.

One day, some amateur gardener might find this blog next to newspaper article about how I died reaching for that last blasted weed.  I only hope that he or she either use it to learn from my mistakes or decide to take up something less strenuous, like coal mining.

A few items of note:

• Sunblock is always a good idea, but if you are a rebel like me (read: stupid), it is best to take frequent breaks in the shade to avoid sunburn.
• It is perfectly acceptable to use the above excuse for breaks to cover up your true feelings, which will run along the lines of "Holy monkey ass!  I hurt in places I didn't know existed!  When I finish this damn garden, I am going to lobotomize myself to prevent future masochistic tendencies!"
• Dumping one bag of soil at a time then spreading it around is the bullet train to Crazy Ville.
• The true recipe for garden soil installation: take six or seven of the bags at a time, placing them where ever the hell they land when you throw them into the plot.  Use the box-cutter to open the bottoms of the bags.  Sit down and cry for a few minutes.  Dump out the bags.  Spread with the rake, tilling where necessary, so as to get a good mix of the bought soil with your native soil so as not to create a barrier and confuse the plants.  Wash, rinse, repeat.  When done, collapse and think horrible thoughts about anyone who said, "Gardening is fun!"
• The smart recipe for garden soil installation: call upon the teenage boys of friends and have them do it for you.  Pay them in pizza and video games.
• The genius recipe for garden soil installation: take up pottery instead.

It took me nearly five hours to finish.  At that point, I figured a break for lunch and my back was necessary.

I ate a bit.  I drank a lot of water while wishing it was tequila.  I sat indoors where there exists the greatest blessing God ever gave us: air conditioning.  (Your opinion may vary, but I don't care.)

I was tempted to not get up again and just plant another day, but with my schedule being about as stable as a squirrel on caffeine, I knew today was it or I risked not being able to get the plants into the ground before the end of our planting season.

After several minutes of pep talks, I finally got up and gathered my plants and finally, finally get to experience the "fun" part.

I started with the beans.  As you saw from my diagram, I had a whole row the length of the plot dedicated to them.  As I actually started to plant them, I realized, "Wow, that's a lot of beans."

Here's another note to would-be gardeners/masochists: Just because there are that many seeds in the packet doesn't mean you have to plant them all.

So, I decided to only do a half-row of beans and give the chard the other half.  Okay, that changed the lay-out, but I knew I could work with it.

My next discovery is pumpkins are space whores, and I don't mean green women from the planet Slut-tron who need men for Pimp Daddies.  I knew, as a squash, it was easy to fall into the common mistake of planting too many and end up being forced to give so much away that you become the Jehovah's Witness of gardening and the sight of you bearing down on their doors with a bushel of squash cause neighbors to dive behind couches.  But, I had no idea they needed so much room.  I figured I could get in a couple of pumpkin hills at least.  (Pumpkins like hills.  I guess either for drainage or because they like being high and mighty over the other plants.)

Pumpkin hills need to be eight feet apart.  Eight Feet.  My plot is 8 x 16.  So, yeah, I have only one hill that has a whole corner to itself.

As you can guess, I ended up making a lot of placement changes as I discovered more space needs of each plant.

The result:
 

Notice that the turnips are missing.  It just didn't seem like I had enough room.  Hell, considering both they and the pak choy are cool-weather plants, I'm not expecting much either way.

Still, the planting is done.  I now have what could turn out to be a pretty awesome garden.

I have made the necessary phone calls to squeal over my accomplishment.  Now, I think, I will crawl under the bed and die.

Fun, they said...




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Now, the waiting begins.  I wish I could poor some instant grow stuff on it and have it pop up all pretty and full of veggies.  Hey, it worked in the cartoons!  Damn reality and its "patience is a virtue" crap.