Ouch!

I have never been a gardener. I used to help my grandmother with hers, but not in a growing way--only in a weed-pulling, brute-force, tilling soil kinda way. This year, however, my mother gave me an area in her own garden to grow my own plants. It's my very first garden ever, and it's all my own (the work and the rewards--assuming I don't kill the plants as my delightful children are already betting I'll do) but with training wheels. Should I begin to make some terrible mistake, my mom can point that out to me and save the lives of the innocent tomatoes and peppers that I bought when I tagged along to the nursery with her.

So yesterday after church, while the boys mowed, I stared baffled at the section of land that is mine for four months. It was a mess! Poor Mom was exhausted but I made her sit on the patio and tell me what to do (and also offer insults--such as, "You really don't have a farming bone in your body, do you?"). First I had to learn how to hoe--well, not hoe, really, because she gave me this funky triangle thingabob. Then I pulled out all the plants that we did not intend to grow, and some rocks, and turned in some steer & bark...or is that bark & steer? That part I am good at, as I had lots of experience at Grandma's house! Finally, I started planting the plants...and found that there was only room for half of them.

Which means, of course, that I have to go back and do it all over again! And I am already quite sore from yesterday's adventure. I know I am supposed to learn something from this. I just hope I live long enough to learn it! (and my tomatoes and peppers, too, of course!) I am definitely looking forward to ceviche and BLTs with home-grown tomatoes come August.