Post last updated: August 13th, 2018
Prior to an April 2011 auto accident, I was able to manage my vegetable garden by myself. My injuries from that accident prevent me from doing the really heavy work so I call on Poppie and friends. Only really, really good friends will help because garden cleanup when you are switching from one season to another is dirty, hard work.
Evie, of “I don’t do dirt” fame, came Saturday to help me. The minute I walked out the front door I mentally began cussin’ the devil. I’m afraid to cuss out loud because God would hear me and what if I get to the pearly gates and he wants a quarter for every cuss word I’ve ever uttered. I’ll be a little short of change since I can’t take anything with me. The mental cussin’ was over the weather. The balmy 86 degrees we’d enjoyed all week was gone. In its stead was a steamy, humid replacement with very little cloud cover to block the blazing sun.
Evie arrived an hour later with her own “garden” gloves. I don’t know what they were — golfer’s gloves, driving gloves — but they looked kind of rubbery. Knowing Evie, they were probably leather. I guess she wanted to make sure none of my dirt got on her. Judging by the britches she was wearing, she for sure didn’t want any of my dirt touching her.
This is how the garden looked when we started around 9:30:
Evie did all the hand plowing because of my injuries and pretty much anything that she thought would further injure my back. Secretly, I think she just enjoyed reminding me every few minutes that she had a younger body. She had the gall to call me an “Old Woman” or maybe it was “Old Broad”. Either way, it was an insult to my ability to reach old age which, obviously, takes some talent. Not everybody makes it.
In hindsight, I think we would have benefitted from the help of Evie’s sister-in-law, Shorty, but I thought we could do it ourselves and Evie didn’t ask her. This is how the garden looked just before I collapsed on the kitchen floor:
There are no photos of me because I was wearing a t-shirt with holes in it and my Shoes With Air.
Sunday when I walked outside to check the garden, the weather, of course, was less humid and much cooler and, of course, I was in no shape to work out there. I’ll eventually get the rest of it cleaned up and put in summer peas. I especially like the taste of pink eye purple hull peas which you never, ever see in the grocery store either fresh or frozen.