I am Not a Gardener

I am not a gardener. Nine years ago, I had a beautiful peace lily for a while…then my puppy mauled it. Since it never fully recovered, I decided it was kinder to put it out of its misery. I was able to grow some chives and spinach a while back. I even grew an avocado pit into a very long stem over the course of seven months. Then the same afternoon I potted it, I found an empty pot, a dirt-covered patio, and the pathetic remains of a twig which had been ripped from its home by my fur-baby. It occurs to me that my plants might actually have a longer life expectancy if something didn’t actively seek to kill them.

Last summer when we had been in our house a year, I asked my husband what he thought about having a small, raised garden bed. Being the generous man he is, he said he would build me whatever I wanted and we could make it together as one of our family projects, which we do from time to time. We bought wood and stain, and over the course of a few weekends, built a beautiful raised garden bed. It was six feet long, three feet wide, and had a wide and sturdy-enough edge to sit on while I maintain my garden. It even had tall poles at the corners resembling a four-poster bed, complete with a burlap canopy to offer some shade during our Arizona summers.

Construction complete, we lined the sides with plastic to keep the wood from rotting, dumped rocks inside the bottom for drainage, and filled the rest with about twenty bags of gardening soil. Mission accomplished, my husband watered the soil to prep it for planting. I got my packets of Home Depot seeds and made my little sections of spinach, cucumbers, jalapenos, and other veggies my family actually eats. Easy peasy.

The next day, my three dogs came in from outside and my two six-month old rottweilers were covered in dirt. Yes, they had found my garden bed and mistaken it for a play pen. Over the next couple of months, no matter how we barricaded the garden, the little Houdinis dragged in half of the dirt to my house. They were evidently teething as well, and had chewed most of the corners of the built-in bench.

After some more designing, measuring, staining, and cutting, my husband and I build a modification and added four-foot tall lattice gates, complete with latches, on each of the two long sides of the garden bed, as well as lattice barriers on the shorter sides. My eight-year-old daughter even helped attach the lattice with an impact drill. While it may not be the fanciest, straightest, or most professional raised garden bed, it is perfect for me, toothmarks and all.

I am happy to report that I now have a small crop of sweet potatoes, russet potatoes, and green onions. The spinach is starting to pop up, although the hurry is still out on the white onions. My sole surviving avocado tree that is recuperating from it’s attack by the two youngest rotties seems to be much happier safely fenced in with its botanical companions.

Original Post 04/2020