The Squash Garden is in.
The Tomato Garden is in.
The Sheep Garden, where we sadly grow no sheep but instead miscellaneous vegetables, is in.
The Main Garden, that most drily named, is in.
In a fight whose intensity kept up till the bitter end, the most evil of all grasses–with roots that stretch clear to China–was slain, eviscerated, and laid out to die a horrible death. This, after careful placement of some spinach seeds, completed the last row of the last garden. As gory as that sounds, it was all too kind, given the agenda of the grass to spread its menace over THE ENTIRE WORLD. It took all I had and then some to wrench it from its ironclad hold in the earth. Sonofa. It was the kind of triumph that demanded some expletives to mark the victory and reflect on the magnitude of the battle. Sonofa.
There’s a lot more left to do, of course. There’s mulching and weeding and a lot of other things I’ll tuck in here or there. Oh, and there’s this wee little raised bed I decided to put in for all of my dye plants. Being a ‘bed’ and not a ‘garden,’ my opening declaration holds.
Now please excuse me while I go lay down and die.