This is not where the bodies are buried…yet
Sunday was the Big Dig day around here: the day I set up the twelve new garden beds for the new greenhouse. They had to be level, they had to be equidistant from their relations, they had to be…well, they had to maximize the 16’w x 28’l square footage of the new structure.
Of course I say “had to,” when it’s only me who’s wielding the shovel and the level line.
As I grumbled, I thought about what it is I was doing. As an architect, I kind of have to have a huge respect for geometry, even if the architectural fashion of my schooling was antigeometric. And today I get paid to hew the straight line, to worship the 90* angle. So why, I thought, shoveling through the clay, does my work life have to creep into my after-work life? Why does my garden need to pay homage to the vector?
I was looking for an out, I suppose. The devil on my other shoulder whispered things like “Plants have no respect for geometry, you know. You put them in straight lines for your weeding convenience only. Left to their own devices they’d be a chaotic mess.” It was sunny out; I am a huge sun wimp. I was tired. I knew, though, that having (12) 6’x3′ beds in the new greenhouse would be the best use of the space, considering that clay, considering my experience with the first one.
But, in all honesty? Having this rigid geometry of these raised beds in the vegetable gardens is immensely pleasing to me. I suppose I don’t really care what the plants think.
I guess I can’t help myself