My son decided he wanted to farm a little and since he likes hot peppers, he obtained seed for several kinds of hot peppers; hot, hotter, hotter still, and good Lord Jesus have Mercy.
He planted each tiny seed in small peat containers. I told him he was at least a month early since it was just the first day of February, but his Mother insisted I let him do as he wished. “Let him make his own mistakes,” she said. “He will learn from them.”
Ken Vickers
Gardening
“I know this is true but since I have a good deal of experience in this field, I thought a little advice was alright,” I whined.
By March 1st they were so tall they were falling over, just as I knew they would. I suggested planting them in larger peat cups and placing them in the green house and, after nagging for a week, Skeeter relented and did as I suggested. Two weeks later they were stocky and healthy.
During this time, the little woman obtained all manner of flower seed and planted them, like Skeeter, way too early. Oh, Well!
With plants running out my ears, I got my old tiller fired up and started breaking new ground. I will have to take in about a half acre of our lawn but I want them to plant every cotton picking plant they have. I also want them to hoe and care for all of it. Little do they know, but I want them to learn there is more to gardening than reading about it in a book.
I got started but soon realized the tiller had to have some help so I hooked up a subsoiler to our tractor and started breaking through the hard pan. I did this because I want the garden to thrive. Good intentions. I had not gone three feet when I hit a water line. I had to turn the water off to the house and this caused an uproar because a mountain of wash was sitting ready and had to be done in order for my wife and son to get ready for a Coffee High choir trip to Orlando. After a trip to Coley’s and the water line fixed, it was back to the gardening.
After spreading manure, lime and fertilizer, also, I realized it would take two or three trips over with the tiller in order to get the soil to the right texture. The soft dirt kept getting in my shoes so I pulled them off and went barefoot in the fresh tilled soil. This felt good and brought back memories of my childhood on the farm, walking barefoot in fresh plowed earth.
A root from a pine tree kept getting wrapped around the tiller blades and I did not have enough sense to stop the tiller while I stepped up and reached for it. Just as I did, I was distracted by a carload of Shiite Evangelicals who had pulled up and unloaded and who had instantaneously began attempting to browbeat my wife into converting to their brand of religious lunacy. Just then, the tiller hit my right index toe, removing part of it and pulling the nail out by the root. The Shiites got back in their car and sped away. I don’t know why. I would have let them finish the tilling if they had stayed. Perhaps it was something I said.
The pain in my toe is hot, hotter, hotter still, and good Lord Jesus have Mercy, and, oh, my hip is killing me! I don’t know which hurts worse.
I realized I am too old for this crap and called for Julio, the Honduran, who has a business card saying, “Have Machete, Will travel.”
Julio is a godsend and now the garden is ready for planting.
I hope my toenail sprouts and that Dr. Miller can put my hip back in place, and if those Shiite Evangelicals will stop again along about late June, I will offer them some peppers and tell them about the joy of being Episcopalian.
By March 1st they were so tall they were falling over, just as I knew they would. I suggested planting them in larger peat cups and placing them in the green house and, after nagging for a week, Skeeter relented and did as I suggested. Two weeks later they were stocky and healthy.
During this time, the little woman obtained all manner of flower seed and planted them, like Skeeter, way too early. Oh, Well!
With plants running out my ears, I got my old tiller fired up and started breaking new ground. I will have to take in about a half acre of our lawn but I want them to plant every cotton picking plant they have. I also want them to hoe and care for all of it. Little do they know, but I want them to learn there is more to gardening than reading about it in a book.
I got started but soon realized the tiller had to have some help so I hooked up a subsoiler to our tractor and started breaking through the hard pan. I did this because I want the garden to thrive. Good intentions. I had not gone three feet when I hit a water line. I had to turn the water off to the house and this caused an uproar because a mountain of wash was sitting ready and had to be done in order for my wife and son to get ready for a Coffee High choir trip to Orlando. After a trip to Coley’s and the water line fixed, it was back to the gardening.
After spreading manure, lime and fertilizer, also, I realized it would take two or three trips over with the tiller in order to get the soil to the right texture. The soft dirt kept getting in my shoes so I pulled them off and went barefoot in the fresh tilled soil. This felt good and brought back memories of my childhood on the farm, walking barefoot in fresh plowed earth.
A root from a pine tree kept getting wrapped around the tiller blades and I did not have enough sense to stop the tiller while I stepped up and reached for it. Just as I did, I was distracted by a carload of Shiite Evangelicals who had pulled up and unloaded and who had instantaneously began attempting to browbeat my wife into converting to their brand of religious lunacy. Just then, the tiller hit my right index toe, removing part of it and pulling the nail out by the root. The Shiites got back in their car and sped away. I don’t know why. I would have let them finish the tilling if they had stayed. Perhaps it was something I said.
The pain in my toe is hot, hotter, hotter still, and good Lord Jesus have Mercy, and, oh, my hip is killing me! I don’t know which hurts worse.
I realized I am too old for this crap and called for Julio, the Honduran, who has a business card saying, “Have Machete, Will travel.”
Julio is a godsend and now the garden is ready for planting.
I hope my toenail sprouts and that Dr. Miller can put my hip back in place, and if those Shiite Evangelicals will stop again along about late June, I will offer them some peppers and tell them about the joy of being Episcopalian.
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