Oooh Man. I loved Captain Kangaroo. I mean really, really loved him.
But what is the deal with Mr. Green Jeans? I think he was a farmer, but he looked more like a creepster. The kind of old guy you wouldn’t want to see hanging around a playground, green jeans or not.
He was not fluffy and cute like Bunny Rabbit or Mr. Moose. And how come Mr. Moose could talk and Bunny Rabbit just bounced around nodding and shaking his head? And the little family that lived in the bookcase and used soup cans for furniture? Does anyone remember them but me? They were my very favorites!
Sorry to rabbit trail…. My point is I am going to start a garden. Like Mr. Green Jeans. Without the creep factor.
I just ordered some of these from amazon.
Because I am a beginner and don’t know much about the whole raised bed thing. And we live in the desert and don’t have glorious soil. Just caliche. Which is hard and besides making gardening difficult, it makes for nonexistent basements here.
Which is a shame.
Because I love a good basement. Except the basement from my childhood home. It was more of a cellar. Or a crawlspace. So whenever Auntie Helen thought there was a tornado coming, we would have to run across the driveway to her house and sit in her basement.
Auntie Helen was the original Mrs. Kravitz. Our houses shared a driveway. She had big ole 1970’s glasses and she was forever looking out the window to see what we were doing as kids. (And I would just like to point out that it was my sister Sherry who coined the nick name ‘Auntie Hell Hell’ and not me) I called her ‘Eagle Eye’ because she never missed a thing. Ever.
Which brings me back to the garden. Which after all, is my original point.
We had a huge garden when I was little. We grew everything. Corn, tomatoes, beans, onions, cucumbers, potatoes, turnips, carrots, ruttabega (hurk) beets, (double hurk) even sunflowers!
But my personal favorite? The peas. Oh, they were glorious. GLO-RI-OUS. I loved loved loved eating peas right off the vine.
You had to get past Auntie Helen.
So my cousins and I orchestrated an elaborate sneak attack on the pea patch. It involved cutting through the field and circling around the seed barn and then a slow laborious belly crawl along the side of Auntie Helen’s garage.
But she would always catch us. And she would holler.
“YOU KIDS GET OUT OF THAT PEA PATCH!!!”
Like we were a bunch of gang members hanging on the corner a la West Side Story.
It was a pea patch for heavens sake. Not a brothel.
At any rate. I am totally growing peas in my hanging garden thing. And tomatoes and cucumbers. I even bought a special strawberry hanger thing. Mr. Right is pretty skeptical. Because he has never seen me garden, although I did grow the heck out of some basil last year. I could always go into basil farming if need be.
I will update you on my progress.
But whatever you do…
STAY OUT OF MY PEA PATCH HANGER THING!!!
Please if you are part of my family, do not tell my mom about ‘Auntie Hell Hell’.