Spring 2023

I wasn't going to plant a garden this year. Both Ginnie and I had been sick with what might have been acute viral syndrome. We dunno. It just seemed to last forever, dragging ambition out of me and sass out of Ginnie.

But we recovered and spring fever took over. We have a shed down by the garden area. We used this shed to raise a heifer, Blossom, three years ago. I had never cleaned the manure out of the shed. The tractor still had the bucket on it from the snow we never had through the winter. I thought, “What the hey?”

The first thing I did was booger up the tin roof on the shed with the roll bar on the tractor. Well, duh! But once I got by that hiccup, it was smooth sailing. The old cow manure lifted right out and spread easily across the garden. Tomato plants love cow manure, I'm told. We'll see.

I removed the blade from the tractor and attached the tiller. Being early April, I thought the garden might be a little muddy. Nope. It was dry actually, and the manure tilled in nice and fluffy. I've heard that tilling isn't recommended anymore as it breaks up the soil chemistry. You're supposed to poke the seed in the ground without disturbing the soil. Hmm. They're probably right. Old habits are hard to break. Tilling is fulfilling.

After church, Ginnie and I stopped by the garden center. Not open yet. But one must strike while the iron's hot. We settled for packet seed from the grocery store, rather than bulk.

Bright and early Monday morning I was out there with a rake and hoe making rows. I planted Burpless Beauty Cukes, Blue Lake Bush Beans, early peas, Cherry Ball Radishes, Jupiter Beets, three kinds of lettuce that Ginnie picked out — Salad Bowl, Sweet Salad Mix, and Bibb — yellow onion sets and “Our Iowa” heirloom sunflower seed we had left over from two years ago. As soon as I can find some Indian corn, I will plant that with two kinds of “punkins” running in the rows — Big Moon and Mini Harvest Blend. I watered everything good.

While I was planting, I noticed a farmer out in the field next to our garden, tearing out old fence wire with his tractor. He noticed me also and we waved. While I was taking a break, he stopped his tractor, walked over and introduced himself. We traded friendly chit chat. He admired the good soil in our garden and asked what I was planting. I told him and noticed he winced a little. I asked him if he thought the freezing was over. He fluttered his hand like a butterfly and said, “Fifty fifty.”

So there you have it from a farmer. The tomato and pepper plants I bought, Big Boy, Better Boy, Cherry and Bonnie Green Bell, I better keep in the garage for a couple of weeks.

I just had my annual Medicare physical. Looking at my blood work, the doctor tells me I have Stage III Kidney Disease and my PSA is high. Gulp. He wants to see me again in six months. I've vowed to swear off ibuprofen, limit myself to only one tankard of coffee in the morning, one diet pop during the day, and spend the rest of the day drinking water. Like, “to-till-or-not-to-till,” old habits are hard to break. It's for my health!

I have an art reception coming up in July (my birthday month, I'll be 75) at the art center in Fort Madison. I've been coming up with some new designs for the occasion. I like junk, circles (Alpha and Omega), and flora. “Springy Spring,” made from wagon wheel rings, disk blade, and a hanging flower pot puts a smile on Ginnie's face and trips my trigger.

I'm glad I went ahead with the garden. The Indian corn and “punkins” this fall, and the cucumbers, onions and “'maters” this summer, will make it all worth while. Sweet corn we buy from a roadside stand, 'cause we can't do better than them.