Saturday, April 26, 2008

No future gardeners here.

This year we have decided to transform the snarled patch of weeds and flowers we call a front yard into a vegetable garden. I'm doing research, ok, I'm just reading "The Squarefoot Gardener" and blindly following his advice. We'll construct raised beds, plant our newly sprouted seeds and then reap the harvest as the summer goes on.

To be completely honest, I am not that interested in gardening or yard work. I don't like the dirt, or the feel of the soil on my hand. I could care less about seeing the fruit of my labors in the yard and I don't feel more connected to my food if I grow it myself. My sole interest in the garden is the prospect of being able smugly say things like "Oh, I'm so glad you like the panzanella, the tomatoes and basil came right out of our little garden and I baked the bread myself." Is that wrong, maybe, but I'm just being upfront about my interest level here.

At this point I have read about 10 pages of SFG, Mr. Dog went on a seed buying binge on some organic NW seed site (they arrived in a package from Peter's Seed which made me giggle, my mind is perpetually in the gutter) and today we potted some seeds to get them sprouting in time to be planted.

This afternoon we hauled the kids to the local hardware store to buy seed starting soil, then while Little Dog napped, Mr. Dog, Big Dog and I got down to work. We filled the pots with soil, added the seeds and let Big Dog live out his watering fetish. As I was prepping the last set of pots, Big Dog sprung up and ran into the house. I thought he was off to use the potty like a big boy. I thought that right until he came running back out of the house pantless and crying.

What the happened? Did you have an accident?
"No," he squeaked between sobs.
So what's going on?
"A bee! There's a bee!"
"Oh, is that why you ran inside?"
"No. Something got all over my crocks and my pants!" more sobbing
"You mean the dirt from outside?" I say, trying not to laugh.
"Yes! It is all over my crocks and pants. I need new pants and socks!"
"Ok, so where was the bee?"
"Inside! Upstairs!"

After getting him calmed down and giving him the earth-loving lecture on the bees and the flowers and the garden all working together, we got him dressed and went inside.
Turns out the "bee" was a fly. Now maybe it is the sign of some failing of mine as a mother. Maybe this city girl isn't great at exposing her kids to nature, but I think we can pretty soundly bet this kid is not likely to be a farmer in his later life.


Mrs. F said...

Cute. I am not a fan of digging in dirt, either. Cause it is dirty and stuff!

Diana said...

That's so cute! Until just recently my youngest (now 3 years old) called every insect "Ahhhhh! A BEE!!!!"

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