I haven't got a gardening bone in my body, and I'm no real fan of vegetable-y produce, fresh or otherwise, but here I am, making a raised bed for the growing of the greenery. It's the boy's fault; he wants to grow things. I think it's 'cause of the gardening they do at school, which is all to the good. I'm hard pressed to tell the good stuff from the weeds (they're all weeds to me) but here we are. The raised bed is made with rough cedar 2x4 stock, cut to length and lapped at the corners with a hole for some rebar to hold it all together. It's full of a custom mix of perlite, sphagnum moss, and compost dirt. It should be easy to disassemble should the need arise, or to replace some bit of. Cedar, because the wife didn't like the orange landscape timbers I purchased first (they were oh, so cheap, $1.79 each, bargain city) because who knows what evil might lurk in that powdery orange coating? (I'm pretty sure they are not pressure treated with arsenic and copper compounds, but I wouldn't bet money on it, and thus the landscape timbers were a no-go. "We'll be eating stuff out of there!" she said, and she's right.) Of course, I probably should have just used the cheap dimensional stuff, 'cause even if it rots fairly quickly, it's inexpensive enough to replace without much concern. But the cedar looks good, anyway. We'll see how it holds up. I was getting ready to put it together, shoveling some of the old beauty bark out of the way, when a rabbit came hopping by, checking out the new snack bar location. I chased it off, and discovered those wascally wabbits can scoot through the holes in the chain link fence when sufficiently motivated. Danged varmints!
Monday, April 28, 2008
The Burial of Blackthumb, Piratical Gardener
Here lies the body of Blackthumb, ready to push up daisies, or in this instance, sweetpeas and beans and carrots and tomatoes, depending. 
I haven't got a gardening bone in my body, and I'm no real fan of vegetable-y produce, fresh or otherwise, but here I am, making a raised bed for the growing of the greenery. It's the boy's fault; he wants to grow things. I think it's 'cause of the gardening they do at school, which is all to the good. I'm hard pressed to tell the good stuff from the weeds (they're all weeds to me) but here we are. The raised bed is made with rough cedar 2x4 stock, cut to length and lapped at the corners with a hole for some rebar to hold it all together. It's full of a custom mix of perlite, sphagnum moss, and compost dirt. It should be easy to disassemble should the need arise, or to replace some bit of. Cedar, because the wife didn't like the orange landscape timbers I purchased first (they were oh, so cheap, $1.79 each, bargain city) because who knows what evil might lurk in that powdery orange coating? (I'm pretty sure they are not pressure treated with arsenic and copper compounds, but I wouldn't bet money on it, and thus the landscape timbers were a no-go. "We'll be eating stuff out of there!" she said, and she's right.) Of course, I probably should have just used the cheap dimensional stuff, 'cause even if it rots fairly quickly, it's inexpensive enough to replace without much concern. But the cedar looks good, anyway. We'll see how it holds up. I was getting ready to put it together, shoveling some of the old beauty bark out of the way, when a rabbit came hopping by, checking out the new snack bar location. I chased it off, and discovered those wascally wabbits can scoot through the holes in the chain link fence when sufficiently motivated. Danged varmints!
I haven't got a gardening bone in my body, and I'm no real fan of vegetable-y produce, fresh or otherwise, but here I am, making a raised bed for the growing of the greenery. It's the boy's fault; he wants to grow things. I think it's 'cause of the gardening they do at school, which is all to the good. I'm hard pressed to tell the good stuff from the weeds (they're all weeds to me) but here we are. The raised bed is made with rough cedar 2x4 stock, cut to length and lapped at the corners with a hole for some rebar to hold it all together. It's full of a custom mix of perlite, sphagnum moss, and compost dirt. It should be easy to disassemble should the need arise, or to replace some bit of. Cedar, because the wife didn't like the orange landscape timbers I purchased first (they were oh, so cheap, $1.79 each, bargain city) because who knows what evil might lurk in that powdery orange coating? (I'm pretty sure they are not pressure treated with arsenic and copper compounds, but I wouldn't bet money on it, and thus the landscape timbers were a no-go. "We'll be eating stuff out of there!" she said, and she's right.) Of course, I probably should have just used the cheap dimensional stuff, 'cause even if it rots fairly quickly, it's inexpensive enough to replace without much concern. But the cedar looks good, anyway. We'll see how it holds up. I was getting ready to put it together, shoveling some of the old beauty bark out of the way, when a rabbit came hopping by, checking out the new snack bar location. I chased it off, and discovered those wascally wabbits can scoot through the holes in the chain link fence when sufficiently motivated. Danged varmints!
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2 comments:
That is some nice looking handy work there. I must say the Cedar was a good choice in woods.
My money is on the rabbits for who gets the most produce out of the bed, but the boy will have fun regardless of how much produce he gets.
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