Last night as I was rocketing home from work, I noticed an appliance dolly in the side yard as I pulled up to the house. It’s never a good sign when an item meant to carry around appliances is out in the middle of the grass and it could only mean that Greg and Tom were up to something that I would probably tell them I hadn’t approved and to STOP IT. I don’t recall signing any paperwork that mentioned appliance dollies.
As I was getting out of my SUV, Greg and Tom pulled into the driveway and loaded in the back of the truck…surrounded seraphim and cherubim…was the thing to till up the GARDEN. I might have done a tiny dance right there in the driveway…which only adds to the neighbors’ case that I’m batty.
I went back to check the chickens to make sure that Vinny hadn’t taught them any other horrendous tricks. Everything was good…everyone had their scaly toes on the ground where they should be. So I grabbed my weed basket and headed for my favorite chickweed patch. As I came around the back of the pool area, this is what I saw
They were starting to till up the garden!!!
Although the fact that they had just started and Greg was already holding a finger gun to his brain was probably not a good sign…and look at that expression on Tom’s face…they’re clearly very excited about this garden project.
I fully expected the rotothingy (nope, not in the WordPress spell check) to be unloaded and parked near the garage and in a few days there’d be stuff hanging on it, like extension cords and jackets and eventually we’d forget we had it and the rental company would just charge us enough to buy the damn thing which is fine, because we had no idea where it was anyway and we’d end up buying tomatoes at the farm market.
But NO! They were out there and the process was actually STARTING! I skipped around and picked weeds for the Beak Faces, trying to look nonchalant, but still trying to keep an eye on the progress. Finally, I gave up being stealthy and just walked over and watched.
I asked Tom why there was a dolly in the side yard and he replied that Greg’s initial idea was to carefully skin the sod off the ground and then transplant it into areas of the yard where there were dead spots of grass. I looked over at the side yard and indeed, there was a small chunk of sod. Apparently, Greg had tried his brilliant, money-saving idea and found that skinning sod off the yard is a TERRIBLE idea because it’s very DIFFICULT. So you’ll notice that the idea seems to have been abandoned in the photos because Greg is just tilling the grass into the garden. Also, it would have been two years from now by the time he’d gotten all that sod moved and replanted and then there would have been watering and “KEEP OFF THE GRASS” signs and remember Greg had already left the hose on for six hours, so the water bill is going to be ridiculous and by NOT moving the sod, we’re actually saving money, See how that works?
Anyway, it was slow going with the rotothing, so I annoyed Greg and took a couple more photos and then took my basket back to the coop where the forlorn chickens were peeping sadly because they’d not gotten their chickweed yet and I’d been gone with the basket for what seemed like years to them. I need to get them a clock…and maybe teach them to tell time…although they can’t even roost without drama, so I might hold off on that whole clock thing.
Tom and I had to take Emma to her school last night to test drive instruments for next year’s fifth grade music program. So, we left Greg to his own devices with the rotothing which is risky on a good day. I don’t like going places at night after I’ve worked all day. I think it’s because I’m old, because it never used to bother me. We drove over to the school and there were two-zillion cars there. Once inside they directed us to the gym where we had to fill out far too much paperwork for a music program and were given a “PARENT PACKET”, which is always terrifying because those typically include RULES which I’m bad at following. The program stretched ON and ON and I griped MORE and MORE and then mothers started asking questions that were CLEARLY answered in the packet if they would just put down their phones and READ THEM. The leader of the evening noted that she was not going to read the packet to us because we were perfectly capable of doing that ourselves and then she read the packet to us. By this time, I was an axe-swinging-curse-mumbling maniac. They had started the program LATE which always makes me mad and I hadn’t eaten all day and why can’t we just PICK an instrument and get out of there. When they asked “are there any other questions?” and another mother raised her hand, I almost tackled her. Tom kept giving me the “STOP IT” look. Finally, they turned us loose to the “instrument petting zoo” and then we had to stand in line….which makes me even crazier. Emma finally settled on playing the viola (YES!) which I told her was a good choice because orchestras are always in the air conditioning and flutes have to walk with the marching band in 900 degree southern Indiana heat.
Right about that time, Greg sent me a text image. HE WAS DONE! My spirits lifted a little! We headed home and when we got there, Greg was cleaning things up and noted to me that I had just gotten my Mother’s Day present for the next five years.
Then he asked where the Tylenol was…apparently running a rotothing is physically painful work when the ground is packed clay and hasn’t been turned over since the dawn of time. I haven’t talked to him this morning. Hopefully he’s not lying on the floor of his apartment in a full body muscle cramp.
So, the garden is finally tilled. I guess they’re going to give it another till today to work it up a little bit more and then LOOK OUT! I am going out there and I am going to PLANT like a fool! Which is more accurate than you think, because I noticed this morning that the squirrels had trashed Greg’s carefully cultivated and planted morning glories that he was trying to train to climb the pergola by the pool…which also means, they’ll be digging up everything that I bury in the garden.
Which means this project is probably doomed because squirrels are jerks and I’ll end up buying tomatoes at the farm market this year anyway.
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