In the Garden
Hoe Gardening
I got a bee in my bonnet…so to speak. I decided that I wanted to garden. Yes, me. My husband, Tony, laughed — college son Joel laughed and even Luke, my 9-year old red-headed son laughed. However, it’s not the plowed-up, row-stomping and lined with beans and corn kind of garden; it’s more of a country with a city flair raised-bed kind. It all started with a magazine I saw at Walmart. It had pictures of raised bed gardens surrounded by beautiful swaying wild flowers that were breathtaking! I wanted one…now.
So, I talked to my Dad. Yup, it was Dad—not Tony. Tony wanted to make it for me, but he’s just not the carpenter/gardener type. He writes checks. Dad loves to garden so he bought the wood and he and Joel nailed together a 10-foot by 4-foot raised-bed. It was exciting.
Then they had to position it. Joel and Tony carried it to the special place in the back yard off to the side. This was the only place that gets sun – other than the front yard. Dad suggested that. Of course, I acted appalled, but truth is, I could have because there are no covenants…but I drew the line at beans growing up my mailbox.
So, the side-yard was where it was placed and it is there that we quickly discovered the yard was not level. So, Joel took a pick-axe… (Yikes!), and as manly as he could, he dug out enough dirt for the wood box to sit level.
Oops…as he picked he pulled something out. Yes, it was the phone lines. But bless Bess, he did not pull hard. Good job…Joel! Phone lines were saved. The box was pushed over a few inches and Joel completed the digging. Dad watched, instructed and approved.
Dad then wondered out-loud about the dirt.
“Lisa”, he asked, “Where are you going to get the dirt?”
“Well, at Home Depot in bags…where else?” I said.
Dad looked totally perplexed. “You’d probably need about 75 bags of soil, plus the manure, sand, lime and fertilizer…it’s gonna cost you a plenty to plant a few tomatoes.”
Amazing how expensive it is to grow your own vegetables! I probably wouldn’t spend that much all year on store-bought vegetables.
Here’s my reasoning for a garden other than the beauty and satisfaction of growing my own vegetables. Are you listening? Pay close attention. It’s menopause. Yes, that is right. When I feel irritated, frustrated, sad or mad…I’ll go hoe. Yes, you heard me…I’m gonna hoe.
So Dad went back home and a couple of days later he had filled the back of his truck with rotted black mulch that had been fermenting for about five years. The really, really good stuff he calls ‘black gold.’ He shoveled and shoveled. Then he brought it to MY garden and shoveled it out again.
Beautiful!
Tony and I drove back to Walmart and bought a few bags of manure, sand, fertilizer and mixed it in with the “black gold”. It was a family affair. Joel, Luke and Tony worked liked true farmers. They even had that sweaty man smell!
I planted (so proudly) four tomatoes, two bell peppers, squash, zucchini, cucumbers and okra. It was a masterpiece! All of this in a 10-foot x 4-foot garden bed.
Our neighbors laughed.
I watered it…I blessed it…I thanked God for it…then I went to bed.
Today, the skies hailed on it. My garden was pulverized. Maimed. Destroyed. It was sad.
I went back to bed…
Tony called; he asked how much to replace the garden.
He’s gonna write another check.
I love Tony.
(I think he wants me to be a really good hoe’r.)
by Lisa Harris
Lisa Harris and her family live in Dallas, GA, where Lisa enjoys writing, when she isn’t gardening and seeks to glorify God with her words.