Tuesday, April 12, 2011

What can this mean ... ?

When DH was leaving, he said, “… when I get home, I’m going to need your help with something.” Uh-oh. What does THAT mean? Remember, this is the guy who calls from another state to ask a “small” favor of me, and that small favor takes me half a day and all my energy to accomplish the gate-building-and-sheep-rustling task. (recall post from last summer -- it's in the archives)

So this new request can be just about anything. I’m guessing he wants me to be “the other guy” needed to reposition a barn door that has come off its rocker. Or whatever those things are called that hold sliding barn doors onto the barn. Said barn door is about 10 feet wide and at least as tall, made of wood, and weighs a lot more than I do. I’d better eat my Wheaties for breakfast so I’ll have superhuman strength for this job.

I finally managed to get some snow peas, and regular peas as well, planted in the garden yesterday. No. Small. Task. First, I had to build a new raised bed because the garden is actually still WAY too wet for planting anything. I hauled compost and relatively dry soil from a protected area, mixed it up, raked it free of rocks and debris and voila! Instant pea bed. Well, not really very instant – it took me the best part of a day to accomplish. I know: I could have just bought a bag of frozen peas and been done with it in a flash. Bite your tongue! Think of all the benefits: fresh air, exercise, and maybe even some fresh peas after several weeks of weeding, watering, and watching their progress every day.

A bag of peas probably costs about $2.99, and a packet of seeds about the same. So … why would anybody take the easy way out when they can struggle to grow their own?!? If you don’t know the answer to that, you’re probably not a gardener.

Brenda came to the studio for the first time, was a fast learner who wanted to just be taught the basics and then left alone to "learn by doing." Here’s what she accomplished:

Oh … and besides these, there was another small quilt, and a table runner that she even took time to put sparkly crystals on before she left. She e'd me when she got home, thanking ME!?! And she paid me to come and use my stuff. Why do I have the urge to recite, “Come into my parlor …”?

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