Monday, May 6, 2013

I’m Gardening Beeotches

I’ve been living in tiny garden-less apartments for the past few years, and even though I did at one point live in a duplex with a nice back yard, I was too preoccupied constantly fighting with my ex-hole to bother growing a vegetable garden. Since I now own a house with a big yard, and like plants, I decided to grow a vegetable garden this year. I wasn’t sure if it was time to plant yet, so I checked the Farmer’s Almanac. That shit is like the New York Times for farmers.

I knew this was the right decision for me because shopping for seeds and plants at the home and garden store was perhaps the most exciting thing I’ve done all year, which also tells you how dull my life is at present. The childlike feeling of giddiness I felt when I finally checked out and was able to carry my seeds and plants away only sealed the deal. We always had a vegetable garden growing up, but my grandparents planted the same varieties of the same vegetables year after year, because my grandfather lost his sense of adventure in the war. So naturally, I picked out some different stuff. But not too much stuff, because this is my first personal vegetable garden and I don’t want to get in over my head.

I don't have a rototiller, so me and my excellent cardiovascular health decided to dig the garden plot by hand. I used a mattock, which was really exciting because I've never had the chance to use a mattock for anything before. I didn’t even know that it was called a mattock. I had to look that shit up on Wikipedia. And before you ask, no, I couldn’t just read the label in the store. I found this mattock in my garage. The Mattock Fairy left it for me.

The Mattock Fairy wanted me to make Mother Nature my simpering emobitch.

I've been reading this book about the Great Famine in Ireland, so digging my garden plot made me feel well in touch with my ancestors, except I'm not starving and I'm not also not planting potatoes, but I am using outdated agriculture technology, so there’s that.

Seriously, though, this book is really depressing.

I got all the way through turning up my sod and aerating my soil, using a tool called the “garden weasel” which is like a claw on a stick, and was getting ready to sow my seeds, when I realized that I'd forgotten to buy pea seeds. I am a huge fan of fresh peas and nearly had a spasm, rushing around my house looking for the pea seeds, and finally consulting my seed receipt to confirm that in fact, I had experienced one of my frequent brain farts and forgotten to buy them in the first place. Luckily, the home and garden store is one of the few places where you can stroll in unshowered and covered paint, tar, dirt or the blood of your enemies and no one bats an eye. So, after busting my ass all weekend and making two trips to the eyefuckin’ home and garden store, I now have a vegetable garden. I wait with bated breath to see if my seeds actually grow.

Nothing so far, but at least my tomatoes are still alive.