Sunday, May 23, 2010

A new "leaf" ...

Friday and Saturday found me in the garden.
I have a very small, specific memory of my mom many years ago. She had picked a small strip of dirt in our backyard and showed us how to plant seeds, water, and weed our tiny garden. When the time came, she was especially excited for us to see the "fruits of our labors". I remember feeling a little excited as we pulled out the 4 or 5 2" long carrots from the ground. It was a moment. A small, small...small moment, but a good learning experience nonetheless.

I thought back on this as dad and I worked laboriously this weekend building my own garden. For the past few months I have talked about, researched, planned, and begged for my dad to help me create a raised garden. After a "little" hesitation, he went out in the backyard and we measured and discussed our plan of action. His vision included 3 grow boxes, 8 ft x 2 1/2 ft.

We went to the lumbar yard, picked up some pieces of wood and 2 boxes of hot galvanized nails.

After, we headed to Grandma's to pick up the extra tomato, pepper, zucchini, and spinach plants she bought me from the nursery (Such a proud moment for her when her granddaughter decides to do something actually skillful. Proud, proud moment indeed.)

Dad cut the boards down to size and nailed them together.

We layed them out and he measured the dimensions and made sure they were EXACT (and when I say this, I mean it. No messing around here. With dad, "Anything worth doing, is worth doing right." Even if that means spending an extra 30 min to an hour pushing 1/16" here, pulling a 1/8 " there. But when I ever thought about pulling my hair out or hog-lauging out loud at the craziness of it all, I had to remember that he was doing this for me. And then I loved him even more.)

Dad nailed cement stakes to each side of the 3 boxes to keep them in place and keep the boards from expanding when we put the soil in.

We cut some special fabric to help keep weeds out and layed down in the boxes.

We headed to the local nursery to get our first yard of top soil, headed back, dumped it in.

I ran over to my fav Vanly to get a brow wax. (It's a dirty job. Might as well look lovely while doing it.)

Came back.

Continued to help P and dad get soil into boxes.

Ate lunch.

Went back to local nursery and got another yard of soil.

Went back home.

Dumped it.

While it was raining.

Not fun.

Spread left over soil around the yard.

Went back to local nursery.

Got a 1/2 yard of mulch and picked up some more pepper and squash plants and onion, radish, and spinach seeds.

When we got home, we cut some more weed fabric, placed above the top soil, and then spread the mulch on top of that.

Realized how much I LOVE beautiful dirt- the touch, its smell. Scrumptious.

Then I recruited mom to help plant.

We planted tomatoes and peppers in one box.

Squash in the next.

And in the last, we planted my one spinach plant and seeds, including spinach, onion, and radish.

Then...we stopped and marveled.

Mom added "I'm so proud of you. You've worked so hard."

I wanted to take all the credit, truly I did. But my heart wouldn't let me. I was just the apprentice, the assistant, the student.

To the Master of Grow Boxes: You Rock!!

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