Hardwork leads to the garden of eatin’

Buzzzzin’ with
Mrs. B



Last fall we were forced to cut down a lovely sugar maple tree from the backyard when it was determined that it was a sick tree. While it looked lovely and the leaves were healthy, there was a split down the middle of the tree and the tree guy promised us that at some point that tree would face a stiff wind and lose it would someday fall on our house.

Reluctantly, we allowed the tree to be removed and we’re left with a sad looking backyard without a hint of shade. All the trees that had shaded the backyard had systematically died and been removed. I am not sure what is going on, but over the last two decades, we have lost more than 10 trees of various sizes and varieties.

It looked barren and ugly out there, and then came Pinterest, that cute little App. that lets women dream endlessly about how they can take their old junk and make it into something new and lovely. My husband hates that App. because it has cost him more money and added more work than he feels he deserves.

I wanted a raised garden closer to the house. We had tried a garden several years ago, but it was a distance from the house and most of the plants uprooted themselves after a few weeks of trying to drag themselves to the water spigot when I failed to be a good plant mistress.

Mike busied himself with edging and rock and then it was off to Rural King for feeding troughs that are high enough that the rabbits will need to pole vault in to eat our stuff. I felt like farmer Jan as I planted my green beans, onions, cabbage, green peppers, zucchini, and tomatoes. To top it off, I added a fruity air with some strawberries, blueberries, and black raspberries. My husband duly noted I could have bought a lot of produce for what I spent on my little project.

Hitting the old shed, I began removing stuff that hasn’t seen the light of day in years and suddenly we had a little garden paradise that included an Adirondack chair with a tiki umbrella to shade it, whirligigs, solar lights, and some hand-made rocks to let me know what I had planted in each box, made by a good friend for me years ago and never used.

We celebrated the completion of the garden by hosting a Saturday night bonfire and we found ourselves hoping a stray spark wouldn’t set the Tiki umbrella ablaze.

We were off to a great start this morning when the wind picked up. I was watering the masses of plants that had seemed such a great idea when I purchased them but now seemed like a lot of time and money spent for nothing.

My husband was speaking in tongues when I asked him to help me unearth a redbud sapling that had gotten a head start on us and now needed to be removed as it was way too close to the house. That little critter had grown roots to China, and like most deliveries from there, took a lot longer to remove than I had anticipated. It is currently in intensive care in the pine grove where we are trying to resuscitate then relocate it.

Next thing I know I hear him bellowing like a Beluga Whale when he discovered the high winds had uprooted my Tiki umbrella, knocked over my Adirondack chair, and bent the whirligig in half.

“I am so sick of Indiana and its (expletive) wind!” I heard him hollering in a fury. “We just can’t have anything nice anymore!” Sounds like just what I said when I discovered the cats had determined that every piece of woodwork in the house is open territory as a scratching post. I could sympathize.

To top things off, I picked the first two strawberries this morning before applying the weed preventer. I laid the berries on the edge of the trough and trudged to the garage to get the bug killer. Upon my return, I discovered a crafty bird had feasted on my berry and had the temerity to take a dump on the trough! So much for enjoying the fruits of my labor!

So, to make a pointless story more succinct, I guess basking in my newfound book nook will have to wait for a more windless day and the last few things I had planned to hang up will wait a little longer as well.

Gotta love Indiana and its perpetual weather mood swings. I sometimes wonder if it is also going through menopause!

‘Til Next Time!

A Wind-blown Mrs. B.

Jan is a long-time nurse and author of the book “Motherhood and Other Natural Disasters.” Comments are welcome at jblackburn1029@gmail.com.

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