Yesterday was Planting Day - May 12, 2020

I was grateful - and THRILLED - that the menfolk had plowed the garden for me.  Knowing that weather reports were predicting rain for today (Tuesday), I was determined to get my seeds in the ground Monday.  Since The Boss turned me loose from work at about noon yesterday, I had the whole afternoon to work.

I started by re-tilling the rows I intended to plant.  As I began to work, the Ghost of Gardens Past brought some thoughts to mind.  One of the biggest problems over the years has been the fact that my garden spot is kind of in a bowl and stays too wet for too long when it rains.  I wanted to make some actual raised rows that might keep the plants out of the puddles. 

The Big Black tiller has a furrow attachment that has sat, unused, for most of the time we've owned it.  The attachment reminds me of a seagull in flight, with a pointy body to tear into the dirt and wings to funnel the dirt to each side.  It was right in the gardening shed where we'd left it.  The Ghost reminded me that I'd had trouble attaching it that one time I'd used it.  The instructions were still in a drawer in the shed.  I found the necessary wrenches and pliers, and sat down on the ground behind the tiller to figure out what I needed to do.  A nephew on the hill has a new puppy - a yellow lab with more energy than any dog I've ever seen - and this puppy was out in the yard while I was trying to work on the tiller.  He kept licking my face and jumping on my back and trying to crawl into my lap.  I hollered for the nephew to "come get this #)!(@ dog," and he came out and corralled the dog, and lifted the tiller up while I installed the furrow attachment.  Soon, I was furrowing like crazy.

The sky began to darken, and I felt pressed for time.  I tilled up a few rows and planted them.  Tilled up a few more, and planted them.  I was down to my last pack of seeds - a good-sized bag of purple hull peas - when it began to sprinkle.  Boy, I was irked, knowing that once it rained it would be several more days before the garden would be dry enough to plant the peas, but I put up all of the gardening tools and came back to the house. 

Five minutes later, it quit sprinkling. 

I put my shoes back on and went back to the garden, hauled everything out of the shed again, and finished the tilling.

The Husband showed up with his gardening gloves just as I was dropping seeds.  He helped me cover the seeds with soil, and we came on back to the house.

I was so tired I would have cried if it would have helped.  When The Husband started talking about what we were going to fix for supper, I said, "I DON'T CARE!"  Sensing my mood, he volunteered to drive to town and get us a hamburger.  That suited me just fine.

While he was gone, I showered and changed into my pajamas.  As we were eating our burgers, I said, "I'm going to bed at 8:30."  And I did.

But, land sakes, I ached.  I got up at midnight and took some ibuprofen, and crawled into the spare bed to read until the pain-reliever kicked in.

Thankfully, getting out of bed this morning was not as hard as I'd anticipated.  My muscles aren't so sore, but my right boob is bruised (from the tiller handle) and swollen.  Big Black fought back!