And, in non-dissertation related news, I’m trying to convince myself that it’s warm enough to start thinking about finally putting the garden in… I mean out. In and out. Whatever, I’m new at this stuff, so I don’t know the lingo. Bottom line, even if I’ve extended the growing season by sowing inside in March, unless I put the tomatoes and peppers out soon, there will be no growing, i.e., no fruit, nor vegetable. It’s funny to browse the specialty or specialized big-box stores with one’s garden in mind, and see that droves of like-minded people are carefully inspecting the specs on mulch, topsoil, and compost (I’m telling you: electronics customers have nothing on prospective gardeners when it comes to questioning specs), and sneaking guilty looks in the direction of the brightly-coloured chemical fertilizer bags.
Apparently, we’re also installing a gazebo in the middle of the backyard lawn. Nice, you say? Well, wait until I tell what this all means: landscaping paving stones, sand, installing, levelling, hauling, time, nerves, sweat, did I mention levelling? Like any brave entrepreneurs who haven’t got a clue about what they’re embarking on, we’re reading books… well, I am, and then there’s an uphill battle where I triumphantly communicate my findings to my partner, and he starts questioning them (not only is he a gardener-cum-builder-wannabe, but he’s also an electronics engineer by education): do I really think I know what I’m talking about when I mention raised beds? Who in the world told me about those. Oh, those professional, experienced gardeners have absolutely nothing on his expertise of attempting to help his parents weed the vegetable garden once… when he was SEVEN. By this time, my blood had been boiling for some time, all to the rhythm of the insides of my head throbbing and blasting with unrepeatable pet words. All I wanna do is smash something into his logical calm face of his. WHAT DO YOU THINK I’VE BEEN DOING ALL THIS TIME? Reading books so that I find the best (easiest, least laborious) solution for my garden, so that we won’t have to take out the lawn *and* make paved pathways in-between planted beds etc. (I *do* look like I have a plan, don’t I?) And here you come, ruining my perfect little plan, which I’ve come up with only this morning, after spending a good couple of hours in a bookstore perusing different vegetable gardening books to find one that supplements my only advice giver (good old Lois Hole). True, while I devise my cunning little schemes, I think he perceives that he’s going to be the one bringing it to fruition (hopefully, our plants will get there), what with me having a lame excuse about bending all the time at thirty-two weeks. But, it will get done, I’m telling you, and it has to get done this week.
Wish us luck!