on raised beds & butlers & why I don’t feel like a badass

A large part of why I picked the plot of land I picked to plunk down ‘roots’ was because of the fine, fine, river bottom soil.  I have some not-so-secret dreams of growing lots and lots of vegetables and even more flowers.  Currently I only have three peonies producing no blooms (not even buds, my friends!) and two tomato plants that I now have to just yank up from the ground and give them a proper burial in the compost heap.  Last evening I discovered that the excessive amounts of rainfall finally did my little guys in. There is a slight slope to my site and they have been swimming in puddles of rain water.  On the drive back to my boyfriend’s farmhouse I got real quiet and sulky. The reason: my sad tomato plants. I’ve gardened for many years, now. Mainly guerilla gardening in small little swathes here and there where I would squish in as much as the space could possibly handle. Why now, with this dreamy soil and oodles of (for me) space, can I not get even a simple heirloom tomato to stay put and throw out some roots? I tried to snuff out my tears as my boyfriend and I walked up to his door. Right beside the screened-in porch sits a striking tomato plant as fat and vibrant as a two year old toddler. Even though I planted him and have been giving him lots of love I was resentful that this healthy specimen was at the ‘country’ house and not the ‘city’ house. And that there was only one plant and not rows and rows of them. As I climbed the 100 + year stairway to the bathroom with my ‘overnight’ bag I got sulkier. My boyfriend and I say ‘country’ house and ‘city’ house in an effort to make living between our two respective houses seem exciting and fun. Not stressful and rushed.  I sulked because the idea of two houses seems romantic and decadent.  Very Gwenyth Paltrow and Madonna (who can afford two sets of hair products and makeup so as to make the overnight bag obsolete). The truth is, though, that there are two houses that need laundry folded, dishes washed, and floors swept. And a dog and a cat who are equal members of our family, but reside one each in the ‘country’ house and the ‘city’ house. And they both need and want lots of snuggles and playtime. So what did I do? I went to bed reading an article on raised garden beds and then dreamt about butlers in tuxedos.


4 Responses to “on raised beds & butlers & why I don’t feel like a badass”

  1. A.J. Says:

    Raised beds are great–especially when tended by butlers in tuxedos. That would be a good combination dream, or maybe some wacky art tableaux, or even an idea for a party somehow. But maybe everything should be an idea for a party. Even saying farewell to plants.

  2. prairynation Says:

    Aww, A.J. Yes, a farewell to plants does deserve a party. And a cocktail. I’m going to peruse my new copy of DARK SPIRITS and find one that is suitable for the wake. It sure was great seeing you back here in ol’ Kansas. You’ve been missed!

  3. Bean Says:

    Yes, Jen. As lovely as rich, sandy, river soil may seem, it lacks the structural support needed for fragile young plants during strangely prolonged downpour weather. Solution- raised beds with lots of organic material and limited sand content.

    I do have some plans for you. Sorry for my tardiness. We’ll talk.

  4. prairynation Says:

    Hi Bean (not unlike, High Beam) Didn’t get any raised beds made over the weekend, but did source a few more tomato plants. Threw them about all willy-nilly like to see where things might actually grow on this here plot. Your tardiness is NOTHING, miss! Love you.

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