I hurt Nanny's feelings a little bit this morning. I can't say I didn't mean to, because I knew what I was about to say to her would hurt her feelings and I said it, anyhow, but my intentions were pure; it was for her own good. And mine.
My gardening plan for this morning was to plant pinto beans (dried ones from the grocery store) in the empty ends of the white bean rows. The soil would need tilling, first. I drove my car to the garden because I knew that after wrestling the tiller, I'd be too tired to make it home on foot.
Nanny did not come out when I drove up, and I hurried to the shed and got out the tiller and went straight to work. I'd been running the tiller for about an hour and a half when I shut it off for a minute to pull weeds, or something. I knew it was a mistake. When Nanny hears the tiller quit, she thinks it's time to plant seeds, and that's one way she can help. And sure enough, when I looked up, Nanny was coming across the yard with a bottle of cold water in her hand.
She gave it to me and started on about how I was getting too hot, my face was beet red, I need to get in the shade and cool off. I agreed that it was, indeed, hot, but said that I only had a little more to do, then I would go home and cool off and come back later in the day to plant. I drank some water, thanked her, and turned the tiller down the next row. When I got to the end and turned around again, Nanny was at the other end of the row, hoeing around the squash.
Pushing 82 years old, heart trouble, one kidney, had JUST told me it was too hot to be working in the garden, and she's out there hoeing. I knew what she was doing: (1) helping, and (2) watching me in case I fell out with a heat stroke. But, still, I was irked. I shut off the tiller and went over to her and said, "Nanny, I want you to put that hoe down and get out of the sun. It's too hot for you to be out here, and I can't concentrate on what I'm doing for worrying about you." I might have used the word "hindering" somewhere in the conversation.
Her chin quivered, but I stayed firm and told her to go inside and watch from the back door, if she had to watch.
She went inside.
I went back to the tiller. As I started up the next row, a cloud came over. The temperature dropped a few degrees, and a little breeze came up and felt good on my sweaty skin. I said to myself, She's probably in there telling God on me. And He's probably thinking, I can't make the hard-head quit without hurting her, but I can cool her off a little bit.
The tiller ran out of gas at the end of that row, and the sun came out again, just as I was contemplating making a quick pass around the tomatoes. I took it as a sign; time to quit; no more tilling for today. I went to the shed for the gas can, intending to fill up the tank, crank the tiller, and let it walk itself to the shed. The gas can has one of those safety nozzles that you have to squeeze and push down at the same time to get the gas to come out, and I squeezed and pushed, and there was gas in the can, but it would NOT come out the nozzle. I set the gas can in the shade and went to Nanny's back door and hollered inside, "You can stop praying now. I'm quitting. I'll be back later to plant."
I'll need to run the tiller again before we plant, to straighten out the rows. Crooked rows drive Nanny and The Husband crazy. (I guess it's genetic.) After the minor skirmish that Nanny and I had when we were planting purple hull peas for the second time, I made a plumb line with hemp string and stakes, thinking we'll not have this problem again. So this afternoon, when gardening re-commences, I'll take out the plumb line and Nanny and The Husband can mark off some nice, straight rows, and The Husband make up the rows and Nanny can drop the seeds. In a straight line.
While I go around the tomatoes.
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Jose', that S.O.B., dug in my flowers again last night. These petunias are never going to grow if he keeps digging them up. I hate his ass. He's got to go.
He avoided the trap we baited with dirt. We probably put it in the wrong place. Tonight, I'm moving it to the front sidewalk, near where he's been digging.
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