My mom has decided she wants a garden. No, not radishes and snap beans — the kind of garden where you have an ornate metal bench and a water feature and (hopefully) a little bit of shade to sit and read and watch the birdies chirp, etc. So we ordered some tall black metal fence panels from Menard’s and borrowed a tiller from one of the brothers in our church. It was his dad who actually handed over the tiller — from his truck tailgate to mine — and he looked worried when he did it. He took quite a long time explaining to me how the tiller worked and trying to impress on me just how hard it was going to pull . . . but words can’t convey a thing like that.
I managed to go over the proposed 12′ x 18′ garden plot three times, lowering the tiller blades each time, but my muscles turned into noodles after that. So I quit for the day. When evening rolled around and I still couldn’t lift my hands (okay, that’s a teensy exaggeration), I called my brother and let him know he’d be tilling Mom’s garden in the morning. Hey, at least he didn’t have to do the hard part, cutting through all that million year old sod!
So for all of you who’ve always wondered what it looks like to till a garden plot with a rear tine tiller, this is your lucky day. I remember seeing ads in the Mother Earth News for tillers where a beautiful, slightly built lady is walking along beside the tiller, guiding it with one hand. It wasn’t quite like that . . .
It’s a good thing we didn’t decide to make a huge vegetable garden. I think if I ever do that, I’ll rent a tractor! Only the growing season up here on the mountain is too short to grow much of anything besides thistles and pine cones. Now for the fun part — figuring out the garden layout. I’ll keep you posted.