For two weeks I’ve been dropping hints to Mick:
I was wondering if you might be in the mood to till my garden? It’s almost time, ya know.
Hey, so what exactly would need to be done in order for you to till my garden? Do you need oil or spark plugs or anything?
I was thinking…if I got the rototiller out of the shed and pulled it up to the patio, would that help you with tilling my garden?
A gal can only wait so long.
So what if it’s still two weeks before I should really be planting my early spring veggies? And so what if I have to go out to the garden every few evenings in February because my seeds have germinated, my tiny sprouts have started, and a cold snap is in the forecast? And so what IF every brain cell in my head knows that I really should wait just a bit more before feeling the soft earth in my hands and obsessively spacing my tiny seeds just so? Like Rafiki said to Simba in “The Lion King,” – It is TIME.
Therefore today was the day that I got down on my knees and worked every nook and cranny of My Little Victory Garden. No weed had a chance; they were all pulled up, every single root.
I paid homage to the grasshopper skeletons I found. I apologized to the cricket family for disrupting their home while thanking them for the reworked soil. I pulled as many oak leaves from the ground as I could find so as not to induce my seedlings with too much tannic acid. I carefully dug up the last three carrots and the four green onions, moved my purple sage, and transplanted my Gilly flowers. And then I smiled…and went to find my husband.
And this is what he did:
So I could do this: