A smile worked it's way across my face, and I sat up and stretched, eager to get dressed and get on with the planting. I wasn't entirely sure what appropriate garden planting clothes looked like, but figured jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt would do. After all, I wasn't plowing the back 40, or tilling soil. All I had to effectively do was open a bag, pour some dirt in a bowl and put plants in it, right?
I fed my daughter and made sure we both had shoes on (a difficult task, in her case) before heading went out back. The first order of business was planting the shepherd's hook. The patch of ground I decided to use for my garden is located in the corner of my yard. For reference, my yard has no dirt or grass in it. The majority is covered with brick, save for a square of faux-grass; the fringes are bordered and laid with decorative rock over plastic which has deteriorated to the point that a few hearty weeds poke through each year.
After moving rocks to expose the plastic, I found a nice size hole had already been made. Using a spade, I dug my way a few inches down into the dirt, but it was hard-packed and difficult to work. Locating our hose, I screwed it onto the faucet and let the area soak a few minutes before trying again. I got a few more centimeters down and lost patience, opting to put the prongs of the shepherd's hook into the hole and just push it down.
This didn't work out particularly well. As the metal prongs hit the hard packed dirt, the long neck of the hook began to bend. Ultimately, I ended up pushing it a bit further, then piling the rocks on top to try and stabilize it then leaving the hose on in hopes it would sink a bit more. Fortunately, it was able to lean on the cinderblock wall in the meantime.
The plants came in the cutest little peat pots that were meant to be planted directly in the soil (saving steps for me, and also saving the earth from another plastic pot in a landfill). I probably should have read them after coming home from the store, though, as it seems I should have been soaking them before planting. Scrounging around my backyard, I found a long planter I had used for strawberries a few years earlier and filled it with water, setting the pots inside.
Next, I found a screwdriver and poked out the cutouts in the plastic bowl I was going to use for my salsa garden to ensure proper drainage. The aforementioned strawberries died a premature death in part because I failed to ensure proper drainage, so I wanted to cover my bases.
After placing the bowl on top of a garden keeling pad to keep the dirt in (and make it easier to transfer to its resting place without spilling all the soil), I turned to the bag of organic soil and began filling my pot. That's when I ran into problem #2.
Luckily, I love to read labels. Love it. Even if it's a bottle of the same brand of shampoo I've used since early adulthood, I'll still give the label a little once over before application. So while making sure I didn't have to soak the soil before transplanting my cute little peat pots, I ran across three little words that made my internal critic howl with glee: Not For Containers.
Just inside the doors, two things were apparent: One, I would have to keep an even tighter rein on my impulsive self than I did on my two-year-old; and two, this was almost too overwhelming. From the outside, the building looks about as large as the garden centers at Lowe's or Walmart. Once inside, however, it's a whole different ballgame. The front of the store is probably the smallest portion, akin to the candy-and-gum lined aisles of a grocery checkout (which is to say, mainly impulse-driven purchases). Through a large door in the back lay the first of many greenhouse-style segments, featuring the most mind-boggling array of plants, planters, soil, fertilizers and gardening tools you could imagine (and some that I never, ever would have).
Back home, the sun had traveled to just the spot I envisioned it to be when I was done with my planting. After clearing out the pot, I began planning the placement of my garden. I went with the Cherry and Early Girl tomatoes in the front, onions in back, and jalapenos to either side. The yellow onion bulbs I got from Walmart were destined for the planter that the peat pots were soaking in, and the cilantro would have it's own home in the herb pot.
After planting all my new babies in their pots, I tackled the Topsy Turvy and the hanging basket of strawberries. Anyone who has ever used one of these miracle devices probably knows that they're fairly heavy when they're full, but being a novice, I didn't get that memo. Trying to hold the chain portion while inserting the seedling, filling with soil then soaking with a gallon of water is pretty hard on the arms, so I was eager to get it up on the hook. Once there, however, instead of helping push the hook into the ground, it began to teeter toward the ground.
Finally, I planted the onions and began flooding the pots with water (as called for by their instructions). The one peat pot I didn't plant with it's seedling was the tomato in the Topsy Turvy, so I broke that one apart and placed it like mulch over the soil in the salsa garden.
What a sight to behold, my happy little plants were. The cilantro looked a bit dejected, but all the others seemed healthy and perky. Photos were taken, then I wiped a dirt-caked hand over my sweaty brow in satisfaction before seeking a tall glass of iced tea.
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