Best made plans can fail!
I wonder how many ‘Cuff readers have gone to great lengths in planning a project and then, sometime in the future, discovered all the planning was worthless — make that erroneous — and, daggum it, maybe the question needs rephrasing. How long has it been since you found yourself in such a disappointing position that you were reminded of the comic book/ strip treatment for frustration and disgust?
Yep, I found myself in that position recently, and that list of comic strip symbols (!!!”X$—2XZZZ#@@&&!(!) popped into my thought process. Let me explain: I know you may be thinking that line of symbols really means something. To me they really describe the frustration I felt. And more than that how disgusted I was with myself for making such a blunder.
Just where is this leading? It was a couple of months ago, early April, in fact, when I began planning my annual postage stamp garden. It all sort of leads to planting the first seeds in the ground in mid-April, or in early May at the latest.
A check of the last-summer garden plot showed it was beginning to show life with dozens, make that hundreds, or thousands, or millions of tiny weeds showing up in the future home of this year’s prizewinning (?) veggies. It was thus, in early April, I had this thought, an idea for action, that now-stupid act was initiated to solve the weed problem. I’d fool those daggum weeds and the summer squash patch would be squashier than ever.
And so, you guessed it. I dug out the small tank sprayer, along with a bottle (plastic) of grass/weed killer. I skipped reading the directions. After all, hadn’t I taken care of weeds and nuisance grass last summer? You guessed it again: the 8x20-foot garden plot (that’s why I call it postage stamp size) got the works. Worse yet, the daggum stuff worked as good as it did last summer.
Fast forward to early May. I watched as the shriveling weeds turned brown and, from somewhere back in the recesses of the cranium, a little light began to shine. Hold those snickers. This ain’t funny, Kilroy! Again, you guessed it, I dug out that bottle of grass/weed killer and began the torturous task of reading the insurance-type print. There in big — make that small, and not very bold — print were the words: I paraphrase, “This is good stuff. It’ll do the job. But just don’t plant anything where you’ve treated for several weeks.” I could have used better language but you get the message. I had to form a new plan of action. Make that a change order.
Counting backward on my fingers and toes, the conclusion I reached was simple — I’ll plant a few seeds and, if they germinate, I’ll resume the master plan. Just to be sure I’ll wait another week or two and then — May, here we come!
It was during the next couple of weeks that Mother Nature took over, bless her heart. The behind schedule April showers fell at just the right times to keep the soil too muddy to get ready for the rows so, as time passed, the anticipation of green beans on the table passed. Planting and enjoying lettuce and radishes was past season and enjoying roasting ears by the Fourth of July … I guess you could call it a dream gone bad.
Time really does pass slowly when you’re frustrated, and especially when you’re disgusted as you count the passage of days with more showers. Especially when fresh, out of the unplowed ground, a new crop of green begins to show. Weeds. Grass. It was then it appeared the best plan would be to think about spring 2018.
But that ain’t kosher. This old boy likes to dig in the dirt and, even more, he likes to be able to pick a ripe tomato, to enjoy the crunch of cucumber slices, gobbling a mess of green beans and gnawing away at an ear of corn.To put an end to this frustrating story, it was sometime in early June that neighbor Billy Ray Watson tilled the old postage stamp plot and then … the work began.
Green beans went in first. A week or so later they had to be re planted. Too much moisture? After soaking the okra seed overnight, every seed popped its head through the ground. That has never happened before, so something had to be right. Now, finally, after the Fourth, the cukes are starting to crawl up the cattle panel, there are pea size tomatoes on the two tomato plants, the bell peppers are still alive and, after a shot of Miracle Grow, the corn is really starting to look like green corn stalks are supposed to look. Sorry, the squash seed never was planted.
Does this torrid, or torpid, story relating to a foiled plan and how it was rescued, kindle any memories in your minds? It reminds me of the old saying, “The best laid plans of mice or men are….” You know the rest of it. A comic group of letters and numbers, #### .!!%xxzxz%##—-?, doesn’t really fit the bill. A single word, make that a couple, does: “Ah, Rats!”
That corn will taste mighty good if the coons don’t get it.
Dodie Evans is the former owner and long-time editor of the Gravette News Herald. Opinions expressed are those of the author.