But let me back up first, and give credit where credit is due and outline the basic preparations we made Saturday. I can't even begin to describe how much I appreciate Sunshine. While he's pretty stoked about the notion of growing our own food, gardening is a far cry from his thing. He can build anything and fix anything--and he has a garage full of gadgets, doodads, spare parts, and big machines that attest to his talents-- but growing stuff out of a dirt pile? Not so much. All that said, while I tried to keep movement to a minimum due to this stupid back injury-- I assembled a composter (with the help of his tools), cleaned house, researched, and planned the layout of the garden-- Sunshine BUSTED HIS ASS outside all day and into the dark evening to make sure our garden was perfect and ready for me to plant on Sunday. If it were left to me, even without an injury, the whole thing would've probably been lopsided, wonky, and rigged together with rocks, duct tape, and safety pins. In fact, the only part of the garden structure that's not perfectly level is the part I put together, but you can't tell by the photo, so I'm still going to pretend it's perfect.
Our first steps to implementing all the plans we'd made started Saturday, and I can honestly say I can't remember anyone at any time in my adult life putting so much effort and care into something for me. Don't get me wrong; I have a wonderful community of family and friends, but I'm pretty accustomed to taking on most strenuous activities mostly alone. Mostly, I like it that way. I don't feel like a burden nor do I feel dependent; but perhaps that's why so many ideas have historically been largely neglected or half-assed: I haven't had all the requisite skills, strength, or time; not to mention it can get lonely. Not an excuse. Just a thought. Anyhow, you see, I have this distinct fear of being a burden or a nag or a pest. I don't want to ask anyone to do anything for me or with me that they don't want to do and/or that I could conceivably do for myself; and I don't want to guilt, manipulate, or cajole anyone into doing anything they're not up for. Underlying that, though, has always been a desire that, without begging or nagging, someone would want to show up for life's adventures with me and for me, just as I would want to show up for the journey with and for them. At the risk of sounding way overly mushy and sentimental.... After two failed marriages which both, for very different reasons, lacked real or balanced partnership, I feel beyond grateful to be living this life and cultivating new life with Sunshine as my companion. This garden means so much more to me, in so many ways, than I think he might imagine. Maybe someday I'll go into it, but that's a little too much soul to bare for now.
And so, enough of that and back to getting into Sunday's nitty gritty dirty dirt! While sweet Sunshine understandably and wisely rested his very weary bones for an extra hour or two Sunday morning, I--like I said-- felt like a kid itching to tear into my gift. So, after a quick and groggy smooch, I was hardly through buckling by crusty old overalls before I was already out the door to grab a few more pots and some coffee while it was still too cold outside to play. Another bit of TMI: cold weather does a f'ing number on my preggo titties. Felt like someone took a razor blade to my skittle nips! Still wincing when I got to HEB, I was half an impulse away from stuffing my hot coffee mug right down my shirt. Probably best that I held off. Social norms and whatnot. Once they warmed up, though, I got a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, and veggies on the table to get the day started-- Sunshine on his own projects, and me in the dirt.
Over the course of the day I sculpted a wide, gentle mound for spaghetti squash in a separate 4x4 space; and I divided up a 4x8 space with another mound for zucchini as well as rows for tomatoes and cucumbers along the backside for trellis support, and rows for green beans, eggplant, and baby romaine lettuce in the remaining space. In large pots outside, I'm hoping to sprout okra, chard, onions, radishes, and carrots; and various peppers were planted in small pots-- habanero, serrano, jalepeno, and cayenne. Sunshine, among so many other talents, also makes incredible salsa. Inside, I planted one sweet bell pepper alongside some old green bean seeds that are sprouting out of an egg carton planter in the window.
In the middle of the afternoon, we took a break from our respective playtime to eat some lunch. While we sat there, crusty with sawdust and dirt, respectively, enjoying the moment with open doors and windows, allowing the savory scent of sautéed onions, garlic, serranos, and homemade burger patties to mix with the breeze through the house, it was inspiring to look at our plates and imagine the fast-approaching day when just about everything on it-- the spinach, avocado, tomatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, and peppers-- would come from our own backyard. Hell, maybe even everything on the plate: raccoon messes with my garden, I'll grab Kiddo's pink pellet gun and make a burger out of that sucker varmint!
Why, hello my Giddy. How nice to have found you in so many places this weekend. Critter belly and I had a blast getting dirty and cultivating new life; so let's hang out again soon, watch this lifecycle unfold, and keep passing go together.
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