This past Saturday we put in the bulk of our vegetable garden. Now we just have to keep out the chickens long enough for us to get the fence up.
I realize that the practical order of events would have put the placement of the fence before the seed planting, but when does my family ever do anything the easy way? The problem was that, fence or no fence, the seeds needed to go in ASAP. We had to make do.
In order for the seeds to go in, we had to finish tilling the garden, a task which was started several weeks ago and never completed. Dad took the bulk of this duty, but I was given control of the rototiller for several passes. I’ve never used a rototiller before, and I’m still a little concerned about having been given so much power.
Our chickens flocked worse than seagulls when they saw what we were up to. They put a whole new meaning to “playing chicken”. Several of them were so fixated on the worms we churned up that they nearly got themselves killed numerous times. This is one of the few times times where chickens are more of a hindrance than a help in the garden.
For four or five hours on Saturday I helped till, then put in seeds and bulbs. We now
have two types of peas, 4 of lettuces, 2 of onions, beans, carrots, radishes, turnips, and beets. In a week or two I’ll transplant my tomatoes (4 types), peppers (3), and eggplant seedlings and plant my cucumbers, zucchini, and squash. As soon as everything sprouts I’ll likely spend all of my free time among the vegetables, weeding and pruning and whispering encouragement and poking for ripe veggies and fruit; which is just the way I like it.