Chris Tries: Farming

While it was all cold and snowy this winter, I became nostalgic for the days when I was a young child and we always had vegetable gardens. I decided this would be the Spring that I brought the garden back. I envisioned my son and I working in the sun, picking beans into woven baskets and chasing each other around the tomato plants a la Don Corleone. Only I don't have a massive heart attack and die.

Living as I do in the suburbs, I don't really have the room here for a respectable garden, so I used some land of a relative. It really is a great spot, good soil, good light. However it's 20 minutes away. Which was somewhat a strategic blunder. Guess how much time a day I spend working the land? I get out there about twice a week. I wonder if the cost of vegetable saved in the end will equate to gasoline consumed?

After my first day of working on it, I was dirty and sweaty from being man handled by a rented tiller. That stupid thing jerked me around and drug me all over the place, but didn't seem to make a dent in the heavy grass. After I finished or gave up, however you wish to define it, I walked into the local gas station. I am ashamed to admit I walked in with a little swagger. Like I was this full time badass farmer who scratched out a living from the earth with his bare hands. I cut off this pussy in a golf shirt and khaki shorts to get in line and sighed heavily as I paid for my four dollar bottle of Evian.

The clerk asked me if it was a tough day.

I replied, "Getting ready for planting time!"

He nodded his head, and I nodded back as turned to leave. Needless to say, I didn't tell him my planting would consist of less than a 20 x 24ft plot. I'm a retard.