Inch One Hundred Eighteen: Last Year's Garden, This Year's Garden

Last year's vegetable garden was pretty much a bust. Some of it was due to heavy rains early on and lack of heat later on: the basil never really came up, the pepper plants stayed small. The tomatoes, such as they were, were spindly and few in number.

Warren is turning over the garden one shovelful at a time. 

Some of it was due to my mediocre health. I was struggling with a relapse, struggling with a treatment change, just struggling, period.

And some of it was due to a lack of interest and attention.

This year's garden will be different. At least that's the plan.

We still haven't moved out the daylilies and coneflowers we planted in the fall of 2014 to winter over. We haven't started the new flower bed for them. I told Warren I don't care if they continue to occupy the vegetable garden: I like the colors. I can plant around them.

This year I am buying plants. I already bought some at the hardware store the other day. They are all waiting to go into the ground. I will buy a few more: some herbs, some another pepper or two. The days of seedlings in the percussion room, huddling under a lamp for heat, are over. I don't have the mental or the physical energy for it anymore. My interests are elsewhere.

Waiting to be planted 

My goal—and this is a drop dead date—is to have everything in the ground by Memorial Day. Warren is slowly spading the garden, turning it over one shovelful at a time. I have cleared out the perimeter, where I plant marigolds to deter pests. I'm putting the seeds right into the "pots" (the two hollow spaces in a concrete block laid on its side) because I learned a long ago that marigold are hardy and seem to sprout within minutes of being planted.

That's what's on my list for next weekend.

Why the rush? I have places to go and people to see, starting on May 31. Warren will remain behind, guarding the home front.

And the garden.