Myths I only vaguely remember.

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Day about 9ish of #100BM

Strange, but true, this space started as a gardening blog (of sorts). In those heady days of 2009, I thought I’d tidy things up and become some sort of modern-day female Dickon, or Martha Stewart, and I would overcome the many obstacles in my path (squirrels, shade, lemon balm, the poisonous black walnut tree next door) to grow my own food and draw admirers to my perfect rows of beans and corn and a stunningly beautiful, and bountiful, patch of herbs that I used every day in my cooking.

Due to lack of follow-through, funds, and the fact that the obstacles (squirrels, shade, lemon balmon, that fucking poisonous black walnut tree next door) were not only not vanquished, but brought friends like weedy Chinese lanterns, raccoons, bunnies, and many extremes of weather, I have not been all that successful.

And I sure can’t guarantee that I’m going to turn it around this year, but I am chucking in some effort today to get shit started. This has, obviously, not gone without complications

One of my original garden boxes was dismantled (by which I mean I noticed it was falling apart last fall, renoted it a few weeks ago, then I took one board off it this afternoon, upon which it collapsed completely).

This was what was left behind.

I have had plans to rebuild (with help), this time with cedar, which lasts longer/weathers better, for a few weeks now. That’s finally happening next week. Much to do before then, however. Today’s task is moving and sorting this dirt out so that I can mix it with compost and use it in the new raised beds. I have a garden..sieve (?) to aerate and get most of the roots and acorns and maple keys* out.

What I had forgotten is that I put crushed bricks in this garden box years ago for drainage.

Which, with a soil-sifting device the length and width of a cafeteria tray, and not much more deep, is really shitty.

This is about 20 minutes, or approximaly 10% done.

Bright side, Sisyphus never had it so good. There may be an end in sight. Some day.

And yet? I am enjoying it almost as much as this chips-and-salsa-and-beer break. It is about at the max temp my body ever wants (about 20C) and I have the backyard to myself (Helper #1 is not interfering for once). I love and appreciate friends, but I am grateful for an opportunity to zone out and not converse for an afternoon.

Also, I had music on, possible to the consternation of my straight-laced, gardening-without-a-soundtrack neighbour (who, frankly, could probably use more David Byrne in her life), and I was doing something difficult and rewarding that is tiring me out and (potentially) making something useful.

That having been said, I can already tell my biceps and quads are going to rebel wholeheartedly tomorrow morning.

Maybe I’ll do another garden update soon. Or I’ll just let everything go to shit again because nothing is coming up Milhouse.

I wonder how my neighbour feels about Wanda Jackson.

* Maples are the most Canadian weed apart from the Caribou Fern and Geddy Lily.

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