I’ve written in the past about my gardening hobby. It’s something I’ve enjoyed since I was young, though the older I get . . . the less I want to do. Every year, Jason wants to expand our little (okay, huge) plot of vegetables and then let me do 100% of the work, and every year, I protest it is too much, then do it anyway. Quite frankly, he’s made it not fun for me anymore.
But this year I had a great excuse. A perfect excuse: I had an emergency appendectomy right before planting season, and couldn’t bend, squat, dig, weed, till, or plant, per doctor’s orders. Fantastic! “No garden,” I announced with a Cheshire Cat smile.
Jason pouted.
“Nope,” I said, propping my feet up on the couch and holding on for dear life because emergency surgery is nauseating. In fact, my whole recovery was a bumpy ride, mostly due to my not believing I would be back to 100% in a week. (I was not.)
It was such an ordeal, in fact, that Jason was scrambling for ideas on how to cheer me up. And he came up with a good one: he took one of the bookcases left over from the shop we used to own, laid it out flat on a small patch where I’d normally plant flowers in the spring, filled it with dirt, and drove me to Mackey’s. “Just a couple plants,” he said. “To perk you up.”
And it did improve my mood. A couple things turned into green beans, cucumbers, cauliflower, onions, two varieties of peppers, and zucchini. Not much. Manageable.
We got the plants in, discovered the bookcase wasn’t big enough, employed old cat litter containers for the green beans, and we were done. Easy peasy, right?
I watched our little raised bed from the porch. I didn’t have to weed. Jason did all the watering. And to my surprise, the plants flourished. (Except for the zucchini, which is okay—I only bought it because it’s normally impossible to kill. For the record, I don’t even like zucchini.)
As the garden bloomed, my folly slowly dawned on me.
Who’s going to pick all this crap?
“Enjoy your garden! The cucumbers and green beans are ready,” Jason said, heading out the door to disappear for three days.
So if you need me this weekend, I’ll be harvesting, chopping, canning, and freezing.
I’m really starting to hate this gardening thing.
_____________
My short story, "Of Giraffes and Men," is a finalist for Best Short Story in a Horror Anthology in Limitless Publishing's Reader's Choice Awards. Please take a moment to vote for it here: https://cravingchronicles17.polldaddy.com/s/limitless-publishing-llc-reader-s-choice-awards-ballot
Voting is only open from July 15–July 31, so please vote now!
Thanks for your support!
But this year I had a great excuse. A perfect excuse: I had an emergency appendectomy right before planting season, and couldn’t bend, squat, dig, weed, till, or plant, per doctor’s orders. Fantastic! “No garden,” I announced with a Cheshire Cat smile.
Jason pouted.
“Nope,” I said, propping my feet up on the couch and holding on for dear life because emergency surgery is nauseating. In fact, my whole recovery was a bumpy ride, mostly due to my not believing I would be back to 100% in a week. (I was not.)
It was such an ordeal, in fact, that Jason was scrambling for ideas on how to cheer me up. And he came up with a good one: he took one of the bookcases left over from the shop we used to own, laid it out flat on a small patch where I’d normally plant flowers in the spring, filled it with dirt, and drove me to Mackey’s. “Just a couple plants,” he said. “To perk you up.”
And it did improve my mood. A couple things turned into green beans, cucumbers, cauliflower, onions, two varieties of peppers, and zucchini. Not much. Manageable.
We got the plants in, discovered the bookcase wasn’t big enough, employed old cat litter containers for the green beans, and we were done. Easy peasy, right?
I watched our little raised bed from the porch. I didn’t have to weed. Jason did all the watering. And to my surprise, the plants flourished. (Except for the zucchini, which is okay—I only bought it because it’s normally impossible to kill. For the record, I don’t even like zucchini.)
As the garden bloomed, my folly slowly dawned on me.
Who’s going to pick all this crap?
“Enjoy your garden! The cucumbers and green beans are ready,” Jason said, heading out the door to disappear for three days.
So if you need me this weekend, I’ll be harvesting, chopping, canning, and freezing.
I’m really starting to hate this gardening thing.
_____________
My short story, "Of Giraffes and Men," is a finalist for Best Short Story in a Horror Anthology in Limitless Publishing's Reader's Choice Awards. Please take a moment to vote for it here: https://cravingchronicles17.polldaddy.com/s/limitless-publishing-llc-reader-s-choice-awards-ballot
Voting is only open from July 15–July 31, so please vote now!
Thanks for your support!
Pictured: Our bookcase of rotting vegetables.
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