Now I am Crabby!

You know,  I have always subscribed to the idea that if we do our best, that is all we can do.  Now I have a different view:  sometimes your best is just not good enough!  I suppose this is because I have a problem with pride and don't like to ask other people for help, but still...

Case in point:  we have a nice new salad garden in front of the house.  All well and good.  We also have a Mittleider growbox out in the field which we put in maybe ten years ago...5 feet by 30 feet with 8 or 10 inch boards as the box.  We did NOT pull out all the brushy trees and bushes and things  before we started.  Bad idea.

With all the brush growing around the growbox it was impossible to get to the back side and take care of the plants on that side without walking in the growbox and potentially annoying the plants that actually were growing.  Last fall we had the whole field, including that area brush-hogged.  A great thing to do.  However,  this spring I thought it would be good to pull up the ROOTS of all that stuff that had been chopped off by the hogging, but I did not want to ask for help, and I never got to it.

On the front side of the growbox about a third of the side was the receptacle of a variety of detritus from a moving/demolition project.  This spring I also thought I should remove all that stuff as soon as the ground had dried up.  Unfortunately, when the weather was good, I did not feel like it.

Now we have shoulder high brush and even weeds growing around the growbox.  There are also two trailers parked a few feet away from the growbox.  The pieces of house demolition that the dump didn't take are still there right up next to the growbox in the walkway, and now they are covered with wet weeds.

Today I decided it was time to hill up the potatoes....our first potato project in years (I had discovered that there were ten potatoes in our potato bucket that had sprouted.  Instead of tossing them out I thought I would see if they would grow.  Well, they did so we have ten plants that are now a foot high.  Since I didn't have enough dirt to hill them up I found a lumber company that sold me two bags of mahogany shavings to use to hill up the plants.  I was just about done when I slipped on the wet weeds/demolition debris, and could not right myself before I fell all the way to the ground and smashed into one of the metal trailers. 

Currently I am really crabby because it hurt, I could not get up immediately because of all the hard stuff under and around me, and because I was afraid a snake would come and sit in my lap, plus there are so many ticks around I figured I would be eaten alive by them.  So, what would any normal red-blooded me do?  I shouted for help since I knew Dear One was on the porch. 

No one came to rescue me so after a few minutes, having caught my breath, thought I ought to think up some mild words to mention on the subject, then managed to roll over to where I could grab something that would help me get to my feet.  I finished covering the last of the potatoes, grabbed a stake for the last tomato plant I was going to put into the growbox but had decided there on the ground that I was not going to go back to the garden again (maybe ever) and which tomato is now going into the salad garden.  Since the beets and carrots did not do anything, well, one of each, the little mutts, so that is where I will put the tomato...and I gingerly got into the truck and pulled it back into the parking spot and went to see where my rescuer was.

He was doing his scripture study on the porch and had not heard me calling for help.  Well, I suppose if I had really shouted he would have heard me...but perhaps that is a vain hope. If he HAD heard me, he would have come right along.  He always does rescue me.

So...that is why I am crabby.  And somewhat off gardens.  I just looked in the mirror at my arm and it looks normal.  What a bust!  Don't even have a good gardening wound to brag about.