Yesterday was my last day at the school office after twenty-four years, and this morning I woke up at 6:10 anyway and went outside in my robe to look at the tomatoes. I'm not ready to write about the job yet. The garden I can write about.
For most of the last twenty years I've planted a vegetable garden along the back fence about 12 by 30 feet, in the ground, with a rototiller borrowed from the Hendersons every April. When the kids were home it made sense. Two teenagers and Greg could eat a ridiculous number of tomatoes, and I froze sauce for the winter. Last summer, with just the two of us, I gave away more zucchini than I'd like to admit and still threw some on the compost pile.
This spring I finally did the thing I'd been talking about for three years. I cut the garden down to two raised beds.
The beds and what they cost
Each bed is 4 feet by 8 feet and 11 inches tall, built from untreated boards Greg cut at the garage over two Saturdays in April. We set them on the old garden spot, about three feet apart, so I can get the wheelbarrow between them. The rest of the old plot is going back to grass, slowly.
Here is what we spent:
- Lumber and screws for two beds: $118
- Garden soil and compost to fill them, about 1.2 cubic yards total, bagged: $146
- Eight tomato plants, two pepper plants, one zucchini, herbs: $41
- Seeds for beans, lettuce and cucumbers: $12
- Grass seed for the old plot: $24
That's $341 total. The beds themselves should last us eight or ten years, so I'm not counting it all against this summer.
Filling raised beds takes more soil than you think. I bought twenty bags the first trip, and they disappeared into the first bed like they'd been swallowed. Greg made a second trip and did not say anything, which I appreciated.
What I planted, and what I didn't
The new plan is planting for two people who like tomatoes, not for a family of four plus whoever wanders in.
Bed one has eight tomato plants: four slicers, two Romas for a small batch of sauce, and two cherry tomatoes, because Greg eats those straight off the vine and calls it lunch. They're spaced about two feet apart, which is tighter than the tag says, but I'll stake them and prune them hard.
Bed two has two bell peppers, one zucchini (one!), a short row of bush beans, a short row of lettuce that will bolt in about three weeks of Ohio heat, and a couple of cucumbers climbing a piece of cattle panel at the end. Basil and parsley went in the gaps.
Last year I had six zucchini plants. Six. I don't know who I thought I was feeding.
Why smaller is actually better
I expected to feel sad about it, and for one afternoon in April I did. That big messy garden was part of summers with the kids, and Josh used to eat green beans raw while he was supposed to be picking them. But the practical side won out pretty fast.
First, my knees. Raised beds mean I'm not kneeling in the mud for an hour, and I can sit on the edge to weed. Second, time. The old garden took me five or six hours a week in July. I'm guessing these beds will take two. Third, water. Our water bill last July was $78, and a fair chunk of that was me running a sprinkler on that plot every other evening. I'm watering the beds by hand now, about ten minutes, and I'll see what it does to the bill.
Fourth, and this is the one that matters most, waste. I'd rather grow less and use all of it than grow too much and feel guilty every time I walk past the compost pile.
I'll report back in August on how many tomatoes two raised beds actually give you. My guess is still more than two people need. Some habits are hard to shrink.
For now I have a whole summer ahead of me without an alarm clock, a cup of coffee and two tidy beds I can weed in twenty minutes. That will do nicely.
