There's a lady on the internet who talks about how much she hates gardening, but thought she'd love it. So since her husband built raised beds for her, she's obligated every year to plant it. My algorithm must have known I needed to see that, because I too have a Garden of Obligation. It's a tiny, fenced-in square just steps from my side door. Micah built it for me several summers ago because I was convinced I'd love a Kitchen Garden, as I called it.
A place to clip herbs for the soup simmering on the stovetop...
And to pluck cherry tomatoes in the warm afternoon sun for a dinner salad.
Sounds idyllic.
And it was... for maybe two summers, then I got sick of it.
Getting sweaty, dirty and stung by bees and scratched up by stinging nettle got old in a hurry.
(Never mind that I've lived in the country for the past seventeen years. I grew up in the city. And don't you know you can take the girl outta the city, but you can't take the city outta the girl!)
Seeing cucumbers at my grocery store for 79 cents and strawberries for two dollars a pint only added to my disdain.
Why am I doing this?... I would ask myself, as I held up one singular good strawberry from the three bushes I planted.
So last year I gave it up. I was fully determined to abandon my little kitchen garden again this year, too. But Obligation won, and that funny internet lady taught me you don't have to love it or be good at it. Just plant it anyway.
I'm lucky in that mine is small.
But it was pitifully neglected...
I began by yanking out weeds, clipping back those roses, and painting the fence a bright new coat of white.
But having barely scratched the surface with the paint job, grey clouds rolled in and thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance. I better stop... Sure enough, two days of steady rain delayed my progress. I was happy for the break. Sitting on my heels to paint had caused my hip to flare up - an annoying malady I typically combat with equal parts ibuprofen and prayer.
I did manage to plant two tomatoes in between rainy spells...
One afternoon I found myself on my hands and knees tilling away when I heard a sharp squeak. I had unearthed a nest of baby bunnies! I had no idea they were there. It startled me. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept working around them, being careful not to bonk their little heads with my tools. When Micah came home that evening I told him about the bunnies. Everybody knows bunnies do not belong in vegetable gardens, so he advised me not to watch, and he would "take care" of them for me.
I haven't seen a bunny in my garden since.
A few seed packets were purchased for the making of this garden. I awoke very early one morning in the hopes of beating the rain. I wanted to plant a lettuce packet. I have done lettuce in this garden before, and it works out great! So I was confident about this one, until I flipped it over to read the instructions...
Plant as early as you can in the spring or in very late summer.
"Well, it's June," I notified the seeds. "That means it's not early spring or late summer..." I continued as I sprinkled the packet into my freshly tilled row. "Good luck in there you guys!"
I grabbed my rotary tool and began work on the next row, but one of the steel prongs snapped off! This was right after I uncovered an old red peppers tag buried in the dirt. Like an archeological dig that reveals past failures, I was painfully reminded that I planted red peppers once, yet somehow harvested zero peppers.
I hate this, I muttered to myself. Why do I do it?
This garden bears no fruit and brings no joy, yet I always feel obligated to plant it.
I am heading out now to resume the painting of the fence. A fresh, clean, beautiful fence may be this garden's only redeeming factor...
Wish me luck.
🌱
~ Courtney
