Well, the madness has begun once more. What that implies this time is that I have once again put in my garden. My father infuriatingly calls it “his garden” which just means he tills it, and the occasionally picks some tomatoes looking proud. Guess who does the rest of the work? Probably the little fairies. That’s it, the fairies.
Anyway, all I can think of “Why did I decide to do this to myself yet again?” It really takes a special sort of person to, possessing full mental capacity, to dig holes in the dirt, put little green sticks in them, then spend thousands of hours weeding, fertilizing, and water, in the hopes of getting three or four tomatoes. It really boils down to nothing more than your garden-variety insanity. (That pun was intended.) Why do I do this to myself? Planting plant after plant after plant, and always in a perfectly straight line, because my father doesn’t have a lot of OCD quirks, but that’s one of them. I pretty much am in the camp of “They are going to grow where they grow” because they are. There is nothing you can do about it. Plants are like children, you can plant them in the right places, give them all the water and nutrition they need, but sometimes they just grow right up next to plants that you don’t want them to. It’s a fact of life.
The hours of back-breaking labor that comprising a plot of dirty vegetables is really incomparable. You apartment dwellers be thankful that you don’t have a back yard that aches to be tilled up. People around here can’t stand the thought of bare grass. They have to put something on it. Be it a shed to put the mower in (always a rider, people in the Ohio don’t appreciate the hours of contemplation that comes from behind a mower), a playhouse for the 2.3 children, a dog house that the dog will never go it, or, in our case, the raging pit of insanity that is known as a vegetable garden. It takes a “special” sort of person to grow vegetables, either that or a raging masochist. (I’m not sure which I am though. I like to think that I’m just special, because I rarely have any S+M fantasies in the garden. But really, looking at my track record, I am a glutton for punishment.)
And to those of you who doubt my record of masochism, need I remind you of that thought I had about a year ago that sounded something like “Wouldn’t it be fun to knit my way through Knitting Workshop?” I have been working on this for, as of today, 369 days, (it was a year on June first). Well, this means that I will most likely make my loose goal of having this rapped up in two years, having fourteen left to finish, less then half. Granted, you’ll have the busy college years starting in just a few months, but I still think I can do it. That’s why God made weekends. Anyway, I’m not doing that poorly, considering I’m near (somewhat) to being done with two.