DailySusan Humor Blog

THE NORTH ONE-FORTIETH

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.
-- Ecclesiastes 3:2

I live in a farm state. ‘Course, you’d never know it. I’m totally Agriculturally Incorrect.

Oh, I’m motivated, all right. I love veggies and want that incomparable home-grown quality.

Every spring, I get a good start on a garden -- but then lose interest and peter out. Like, on Day Two.

There isn’t much “-culture” in my “agri-.” If it were up to me to feed my family, we’d be skinny enough to walk sideways through the bunny fence.

Which we have to have -- a bunny fence -- because I’m a wussie. Rabbits eat my lunch. Literally.

Now, I tried to fight back. I got a pellet gun, striding like Rambo out to the back yard for target practice on an orange-juice can. Deadeye! Then a bunny came into view. Arm shaking, I raised the gun and aimed. He had half a hosta plant already in his mouth, munching placidly.

Suddenly, my husband appeared. He said, “You’ll probably just wing him. You’ll have to finish him off. You know, go up to his wriggling body, grab a hold of him by the ears, and. . . .”

He coldly demonstrated a neck-wringing action.

I lowered the gun, tears plopping onto my half-hosta as the bunny placidly munched the rest. Haven’t touched the gun since.

So I’m a “conscientious objector,” unwilling to defend my garden soverignty. I’m also clueless. Once, I planted radishes. The leaves grew elephantine. I was thinking State Fair. Then I pulled them up. Each radish was the size of a freckle. I don’t know why.

I planted leeks. They sprang some, I guess, and never came up. I don’t know why.

I planted carrots, but didn’t cultivate the compacted soil under the seeds. Instead of plunging downward, the carrots spread out broadly, several inches wide and one inch tall. Carrot bricks.

My self-esteem . . . wilted.

Then, like a prince on a white charger, or maybe it was a green tiller, my brother-in-law Ernie propositioned me.

(IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK!!! Ewww!!!)

He and my sister are empty-nesters in a townhouse now. But he’s a longtime gardener. He asked to start a vegetable garden in the weedy, unused paddock behind our barn. If we’d supply the space and the water, he’d do the rest, and share the harvest.

So we have a farm now, and Ernie’s our tenant. We call it “The North One-Fortieth,” since it’s about 1/40th of an acre. It’s on the west, not the north, too, but we like to be cute.

First, he tilled. Then, he built a fence, Stalag Ernie.

Then he planted cucumbers, beans, lettuce, radishes, broccoli, potatoes, tomatoes and corn. We have a pumpkin patch for Maddy, and zucchini, squash and gourds.

It’s primeau. The tomato cages would withstand a nuclear blast. The watering system is like something at EPCOT.

My husband’s gotten into the act, adding a rain gauge, harrow, and steel rebar for the fence.

We’re having fun. Ernie pops radishes into his mouth with dirt still on them, but he doesn’t even care, they taste so good.

I wilt with pleasure over Wilted Lettuce Salad, minutes after harvest, ladybugs left in because “they’re OK on Atkins.”

Our neighbor, Steve, put in two tomato plants, too. He got a later start, so our plants dwarf his. Now, he and his wife are coming over tonight with two other couples. I’m sure we’ll tour the garden.

I don’t want him to feel bad. So I’m sneaking out there first with some store-bought grape tomatoes to wire to Steve’s plants, as if his mysteriously eclipsed ours overnight.

I can’t wait to see the look on his face. It’ll be better than an ad for Miracle Grow!

That’s what we’re growing out there, anyway: miracles. Of life. Of growth. Sowing and reaping, nourishing and sharing . . . having fun and enjoying the process . . . it’s how the Gardener plotted it all along.

And those bunnies can’t do a thing to stop us.

Nyahh nyahh nyahhhh! Hoe, hoe, hoe!

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Prayer request: A fond farewell today and tomorrow as the memorial services proceed for a beloved mother of a beloved sister-in-law. Marilyn was a teacher and in her courageous battle with abdominal cancer, she taught her loved ones well. Thank You, Father, for this gentle, good life, and bring rest and refreshment to her family this week. (1 John 5:13)