“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow”? (Child’s Garden of Verses poem)

Yes, it’s planted, thanks to Fred. The garden is in, and the plants are beginning to break through the soil. The rows are staked and labeled, and the different plants are lined up in their designated rows. There remains a small space set aside for last minute stragglers. One never knows when an “orphan” plant might need a home. Fred doesn’t like to see any little plant die for no reason.

Planting the garden is a yearly Spring ritual for Fred. Our good friend, Greta, is also a gardener. These two gardeners love to get their “hands in the soil,” they say. That is a remarkable virtue that I do not possess.

The garden is gigantic by my standards. My standard would be a plot about 3 by 4 feet. Our garden is about 30 by 50 feet. The tomatoes are at one end, followed by the squash, then the lettuce, the onions, the cucumbers, the okra, and so on.  

I do not plant. I am not the gardener in the family, you see. I get no adrenaline rushes out of digging my hands in the dirt. I am the reaper, but not a “grim” one. I help pick and distribute the veggies, I cook the veggies, and I can some of the tomatoes.  

But I do know my assignment in these early stages.

Just this past weekend, a farmer friend gave Fred some straw bales. They are old straw bales, and have been sitting in the barn for many, many years. Spreading straw over the garden cuts down the weed problem. Fred asked me to help him break up the hunks of straw and help spread the straw over the garden. I help with this every year. I am an expert “straw-er”

He threw the chunks of the bales over the fence, and we began the operation. It is an “operation” you know, and Fred keeps an eye on me, even though I know by now how to spread straw.

Opening the bales, I could see that there was mold here and there. I ignored it, and just broke up the chunks and spread the straw. We got the garden covered in about an hour’s time. The garden surface is so thickly covered with straw that I could easily take a nap there. I was tempted.

The next assignment was one I do every year, helping Fred lay the tubing down in the garden for the irrigation. This is a homemade operation, and Fred has used tubing with little holes in them, and spaced them out, connecting them to a main hose. Since the rows of vegetables have been measured in distance to match up with the irrigation hoses, it is crucial to lay them down right. Right? 

My job is to help carry the hoses over the fence and do as Fred directs as we lay the little pipes down. I have become a pro at this too. Just want you to know that!

It’s an important assignment.

Now, where am I going with this? Oh, did I tell you Fred has allergies? His sinuses kick up and the drainage goes down into his chest? What, you too? A Kansas curse.

The next morning Fred arose with miserable sinus congestion. He said, “At least I am not dizzy. But his head felt like a balloon. 

The mold in the straw didn’t help. 

Yes, he owns masks. They are in packages in the garage on the workbench. I’m sure he was so enthused about getting the garden all tucked in and comfy that he forgot. We were concentrating on the important issue here; covering those babies and making sure they would get water.

Fred is on a mission to save the world from starvation!

As you plant your garden, if you need my advice, send me a question. I know how to spread straw and lay irrigation. 

Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached at juditabler@gmail.com.