Last Wednesday afternoon we received our first threat of possible tornadoes, and spring has officially arrived in Central Oklahoma! That morning the air was humid and smelled like Florida. It was very encouraging. Overnight, it seemed, the trees along Northwest 122nd Avenue blossomed with their bright pink, purple, and white flowers. Even the half-dead ugly tree in my own front yard is sprouting tiny leaves. I’m so giddy!
A few weeks ago I mentioned to Matt that I was going to buy some raised beds for this year’s garden. They worked so well for me back in Florida, unlike last year’s Oklahoma City porch garden where everything barely survived in pots and barrels. Matt took off with the idea. Suddenly there were blueprints and cedar boards and trucks delivering dirt and pea gravel, dumping them into mounds on my driveway.
My simple raised beds idea became a two-weekend project. Friends volunteered to help build the beds and level the ground. They gave up their weekends to help spread drainage rocks after removing strips of sod, trudging them all the way into the far backyard via wheelbarrow. They shoveled and sweated and suffered sore backs. All the while I shook my head thinking, “This is too much!” All the while feeling left out, too, because I had recently hurt my back and was under strict orders not to lift anything for two weeks.
Then it all started coming together. I could see the end result! My husband kept giving me that “I told you so” look, as if he knew the whole time that I’d love this garden more than I was letting on (he did, and I do!). Sometimes simple just won’t do it. Sometimes I should trust that bigger is better. Sometimes my husband is right. (See, honey. Public acknowledgement!)
This weekend I was finally able to contribute by staining the wood and making an all-important beer run. We had Chinese delivered to the house and the whole lot of us sat around the table for lunch. Later, after the last shovel full of dirt was thrown into the beds and our driveway was cleared, we thanked our friends and let it be known that we were indebted to them.
It’s like Amish barn raising when it comes to our friends. You help me, I help you. Need a room painted? A floor tiled? A dogsitter? Outside of gifting them with flowers and veggies throughout the growing season, I’m not sure how to repay them. Or my husband, who endured my reluctance to be enthusiastic.
Well, I’m enthusiastic now. The moment everyone left I went straight for the dirt. I transplanted seedlings and sowed additional seeds for nearly two hours. Covered in dirt and wood stain, I finally saw what this could do for me. It’s gonna keep me busy. And, according to my husband, it’s gonna keep me happy.