Home garden and marriage growth

The garden is nearly all in.  

I have two kinds of peas; Little Marvel and Oregon Sugar Pod II.  Buttercrunch, Romaine, Oaky Red Splash, Green Leaf and Radiccio lettuces.  Grape Juliet, Sweet 100, Sweet Million, Beaverlodge Slicer, Fantastic, Sweet Cascade tomatoes.  Cue ball Zucchini and Australian Butter squashes.  Spinach.  Swiss Chard, overwintered.  Lemon, pickling and Sweet Slicer cucumbers.  Tristar strawberries.  Pumpkins.   Onions. Leeks.  Anaheim, Jalapeno, and Poblano peppers.  French beans, dry beans.  Radishes, Carrots. And flowers.

All set in raised beds with rich compost and chicken potty (courtesy of the girls).  I has been difficult to get the garden in this year with a bum hip, but I am getting lots of help from Emily and George.  

Last year, I swore off of gardening when George began his twenty-sixth annual bitch fest about the hard work it takes.  I suddenly realized that I live in one of the richest most fertile and productive farming areas in the world, and there are scores of farm stands minutes away.  I said, "You're right.  I do this for the kids' experience and learning, which I don't need to do anymore.  I do this for you, because you get so much pleasure from the garden all summer.  I always plant your peas and tomatoes first and most.  The pleasure I get from gardening can be diverted into canning or tanning or blogging or fishing.  If it has become nothing but work, it is a silly thing to continue. I'm done."  I put away the tools and went inside the house, grabbed my purse, and went shopping.  I especially hated this annual sniping event because it is my physical limitations that dictate that his help is required, a car wreck having turned this strong farm woman into a weaker version of herself... 

When I came home, the raised beds were turned and amended, the seeds set out in a basket on the porch, and the weeds pulled.  George begrudgingly admitted that he probably enjoys the garden even more than I do, and he does not want the tradition to end.  I extracted a promise to end the annual bitching event.

This year, putting in a garden has been a pleasure.  Not one complaint, a cheerful offer of help each day I work in the garden, and praise for the progress.  He even said he can't wait for the peas and cherry tomatoes. Another reason I'm still married.