Suburban Agriculture

Gardening is not for wusses. Being a wuss myself, I can speak with some authority on this subject. I was dubbed the child with the green thumb at an early age and clung to the title. Being the third of four kids, I eagerly latched onto any characteristic that distinguished me from the pack. I lost my dog last year but gained a back yard. It was impossible to grow anything other than grass back there while Alistair was alive. Alistair of the toxic urine. He peed an apple tree to death for gosh shakes. And, he totally corroded the lower hinge on the gate. That hinge looked like it came up from the Titanic when it finally just crumbled. Don’t even ask about the air conditioner.

Anyway, the garden. It’s very small -- only 8’ x 10’. I planted it with tomatoes, okra, onions, lettuce, beans, peppers and zucchini. The zucchini was a bust. I got one before it died in captivity after putting up a rabbit-proof fence (more about that later). Zucchini does not like to be penned in. One plant apparently needs about 50 square feet to be happy. It didn’t go down alone, however. It launched a hostile takeover of the beans’ territory. While it was busy stunting them, it left its rear unprotected and that’s when the fence slipped in cutting off any chance for retreat. The zucchini chose death over surrender.

Back to the rabbit proof fence. It falls under the “Seemed like a good idea at the time” category. The fence lived up to its name and kept the rabbits out. Unfortunately the three foot high fence was more than my five foot frame could handle. The first time I fell trying to step over it was because my shoelace got caught in it. Fortunately, being only five feet tall, I don’t have far to fall. The second time I fell the fence teamed up with the bird netting I’d spread over the tomatoes. This time my foot got tangled in the netting as I was stepping over the fence with an armful of tomatoes and okra. I lost my balance as I was trying to free my foot. As I crashed through the fence the produce was flung into the air and rained down all around my prostrate body. My finger was caught in the netting and as I sat up, the tent stake anchoring the end of the fence popped out and came whizzing by my head. bugger. The netting ripped my fingernail off halfway down the nail bed. (You just cringed, don’t lie.) I looked at the nail and knew it was going to hurt and bleed like hell once it figured out what just happened. I was right. I gathered up my veggies and limped back into the house, trying not to drip blood on the floor. I made my husband cut the rest of the nail off, went to bed and slept for three hours. Proportionately I think the injury I sustained in my 8 x 10 garden is the equivalent of a farmer having his arm wripped off in a thrasher. We took the fence down and I have yet to see a rabbit in the garden. However, I do think I heard snickering coming from the bushes when I fell.