Now I Know What My Grandfather Meant

I remember as kids, we would go visit my grandparents. I was always awed by what seemed like a perfect and HUGE garden my grandfather kept. I know perhaps my childlike perception at the time may have been a bit exaggerated, but it seemed like every plant was hale and healthy, and there was never even one little weed to be found. I also remember from time to time hearing my grandfather say, at the end of a day out in the garden, "OOOhhh, I'm all lamed up."

Today I know exactly what he meant.

Yesterday was a beautiful day to be outside, and for me, to be in the garden. We had planted peas last week, knowing they are pretty hardy and withstand any frosts at this point. Plus we started them from seed, so they are just barely now peeking their heads out of the soil.

I had several dozen other plants to transplant, and wasn't so confident they would survive a late frost, so we kept them in, and have been working on hardening them over the weekend. After much deliberation, research, and discussion with fellow gardeners over the weekend, I decided it was time to start getting them in the ground.

I won't give a blow by blow play of what all went on yesterday, but suffice it to say that we now have planted: tomatoes, peppers, onions, acorn squash, yellow squash, zucchini, pumpkins (not actually in the garden but elsewhere on the property where they will grow better hopefully), zucchini, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, cucumbers, rhubarb, calalilies, and strawberries.

Yes, I said strawberries! We got some strawberry plants on a whim over the weekend, and a friend brought down a rototiller for us and we now have a little strawberry patch. Those of you who have seen the house, picture where the incineraters used to be. Those are gone (thankyousomuchNewYorkStatelaws... a whole soapbox for another post), and it is worked up into a little rectangle. You know I'm doing the goodie goodie dance. Well, not today, but I was.

Which brings me back to the beginning. I'm all lamed up. Even the muscles in my hands hurt. I think I can fully understand what my grandfather was talking about all those years ago. I also understand the little grin he had on his face when he said it. Yeah, I hurt, but it is a good hurt. It is the kind of ache that says I worked hard, and I can be satisfied with that.

Thank the Lord for the garden, although I wasn't saying that for a while. We have a very rocky garden, and that is an understatement. We haven't picked rock in a couple years because frankly, with the amount we breed here, it doesn't do any good, but it looks worse than it did last year, so next spring we'll pick rock. But digging and planting through the rocky soil is very hard, and you start feeling it right away.

I'm also thankful for the crock pot, and for using it for supper last night. I set it up when we came in at lunch time, and was so glad all we had to do was whip up a big salad and open up a couple jars of applesauce to go with the main dish: King Ranch Chicken. So good! So wonderful after a day of intense work.

Left to go into the garden are corn, green beans, and spinach. We also need to put the flowers in the memorial garden. I had Esther starting to clean it out yesterday but it is totally infested with ants and she couldn't work with them. I don't blame her! Dale got some stuff at Agway last night so I'll treat it when the rain stops and then we can get it cleaned up and looking nice.

Rain today and possibly tomorrow, so my only plans are to make a couple of rhubarb pies and work on piecing the back to Benjamin's quilt. The rhubarb was given to us Sunday, and I'm looking forward to a nice dinner tonight of spiral ham, red potatoes, veggies and pie for dessert!

Have a blessed day!