How Does Your Garden Grow?

My day was supposed to be full to the brim with babysitting but at the last minute Miss D's grandma (not my mom, the other one) pulled rank and stole her away for the day so I was left with a huge expanse of empty hours and no plans to fill them. And so, never one to spend a day lolling around, I immediately went into project mode and descending upon and empty patch of dirt in my parent's backyard. My dad had recently torn down the shed that stood in this spot for my entire childhood and this barren plot was in serious need of greenery.

After a trip to the nursery and roping dad into putting a nice border around the plot we were ready to garden! Or rather... to rototill. Despite all posted warnings I choose to operate this heavy machinery in a skirt and flip flops cause I'm super hardcore (also known as stupid hardcore). In addition to around 75 tons of rocks and a disturbing amount of broken glass I dug up a dead squirrel and in further testament to my hardcoredness I picked it up and threw it into the trash without so much as a whimper. Perhaps I haven't converted to 100% city girl just yet.



After erecting the overly snazzy border dad announced that he was done with the project and that it was ALL me from there on out. This was Dad's biggest lie ever because what followed was me asking him questions like "Ok, is this enough dirt or should I add that other bag?" To which he'd respond, "I don't know! This is your project!" but as soon as I'd move forward without the extra dirt he'd begin to mutter things like "hmmm seems a little sparse, might need more dirt." Somehow we managed to finish without me throwing any dead squirrels at his head.