My back is sore. My arms are tight. The tips of my fingers are dry. I’m walking a little slowly up the stairs.
Did I get in a good workout at the gym? No, no, no…something waaaayyy better than that.
I was out in the garden this weekend! And I guarantee, no matter how many spin/zumba/crossfit classes you take a week, raking, shoveling and yanking in the garden will tax muscles you forgot you had.
As much as I love planning where my squash will go this year and contemplating which varieties of tomatoes I’ll plant, I have to admit something: this whole mini-farm business is a lot of work. When you’ve cleared out piles of weeds, cut down a massive stack of dead canes from your raspberry bushes and dealt with a terribly stinky compost-gone-awry situation and the land still looks like an unruly mess, a person can understand why not everyone wants to grow their own food.
But I also know that when I’ve virtually forgotten what the grocery store looks like because I’m digging into plates of tomatoes, onions, radishes and squash garnished with fresh cut herbs all from my own backyard, I’ll be astonished that everybody else isn’t harvesting from their land too.
And while I’m not ready to plant anything in the ground just yet (finicky Minnesota weather!), it’s thrilling to see the progress that’s happening all by itself out there. The chives continue to flourish and are snipped atop just about every dish of food I’m eating these days.
I have a watchful eye on a triangle of rhubarb plants.
And the greatest surprise of all: tall, thin spears of asparagus!
I nestled a few plants into the ground between the rhubarb and the peony bush my first planting season in this house and, since it takes a couple of years to actually produce the delicate spring vegetable, this is the first time I’ve seen it in the garden!
And finally, amidst the old, dry branches that I cut out of my raspberry bushes, leaves are growing on the younger canes and I can’t wait for the sweet and tart red berries to emerge.
Now, can I get a massage or something?! Ouch.