I’ve never personally gardened before. Back in 1997 when my husband and I rented our first stand-alone dwelling, I planted three cherry tomato plants in the yard next to the garage. I got pregnant in July, got tired and lost interest in the garden so my husband, like for many of our other household chores, took over faithfully watering and fertilizing the plants. By the time the tomatoes were ready to eat, the thought of eating them made me feel nauseous so they largely went to waste.
From then until 2009, I relied on the grocery store, farmers’ market or generous family and friends to quell my fresh vegetable cravings. Then in early 2009, my younger brother decided to put in a garden and like my brother usually tends to do, he jumped in head first. He brought in dirt, planned out a huge planting scheme, built a cucumber trellis and started all of his plants from seeds. He essentially had an entire farmers’ market growing in his back yard. Of course because he and his family could never eat all those vegetables, I, with others, got to enjoy his bounty. The tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini and carrots were delicious; there really is nothing better than veggies right from the garden and this reminder inspired me to become a weekly patron at our local farmers market to supplement my supply (he lives ½ hour away). Plus he made THE BEST pickles I have ever eaten. I told people I think he finally found his calling.
Last winter, because I’d be working from home this summer and so I could have fresh vegetables even more available, I decided to put in my own garden. (I was inspired by my brother and did not decide to put in a garden because the first lady said so.) But I decided to start a little bit slower with herbs, radishes, green beans, carrots, tomatoes and peppers. I got a “Dummies” book, read up on vegetable gardening and started planning. My husband built a raised bed in a sunny spot next to our patio; we brought in at least three times more dirt than we needed; purchased seeds, tomato and pepper plants; and planted our first crops on April 11th. We were a little anxious and had to cover the plants up at night a couple of times but everything seems to be doing well. The green beans are thriving, carrots may be growing (or they could be grass), and we found a couple of cucumber plants to go in with those we started from seeds.
I’m a gadget-girl so I was excited to go out and buy the supplies I’d need to garden. I got a beautiful bright pink gardening kit with a bag, knee pads, hand rake, trowel and garden gloves. I also got a fancy telescoping watering wand with something like ten different settings I thought was a bargain on the clearance rack. Last week when water starting spraying out from the wand in all directions, I figured out why it was on clearance. So I bought a less fancy, hopefully better built wand from a well known garden tool manufacturer with just three settings. Last Wednesday morning after uncovering all of the plants we had tucked in the night before to protect them from the threatened frost, I decided to weed.
I got out my three pronged beautiful pink hand rake and carefully dragged it through the narrow space between the rows of radishes, green beans and carrots. Since the rake was of the hand variety and about six inches long, I had to lean over the chicken/rabbit wire fence to reach and then had to get into the garden, all while trying not to fall down and smash my tomatoes and peppers or rip my clothes on the sharp tomato cages. There is a lot more room between the last row of carrots, tomato and pepper plants so I got out my husband’s childhood hoe from the garage. Since it has a flat blade, the weeds cannot sneak between the tines and remain, though stripped of soil, still alive and well. But since the hoe was so wide, I could not use it between my radishes, green beans and carrots without tearing up the plants I wanted to be there. I wondered, “do they make a skinny hoe?”
I asked my husband if he ever had a skinny hoe or knew if there was such a thing as a skinny hoe. He claimed he didn’t know so the next day, I went to my local big-box store with a gardening center to look for a skinny hoe. Not finding one, I asked an employee for help:
“Excuse me. I’m looking for a skinny hoe.”
Employee: “Our hoes are all lined up over there, ma’am.”
Me: “Yes, I know. But those are too fat. I already have a fat hoe. I need a skinny hoe.”
Employee: “How skinny do you need your hoe to be?”
Me: I picked up a fat hoe to demonstrate. “You see, I have a fat hoe like this. But it doesn’t work for all situations so I need a skinny hoe about half this size to squeeze in. I need my skinny hoe to be tall because the short ones make my back hurt”
Employee: “I’m sorry ma’am; these are all the hoes we have. No one’s ever requested a tall skinny hoe before; the tall fat hoes seem to work just fine for them.”
Me: “Well, I can’t be the only person who can’t bend with their hoe without back pain. Maybe I should invent a skinny hoe.”
I thanked the employee, continued my shopping and brainstormed marketing ideas for my skinny hoe invention:
“A skinny hoe to go where no other hoe has gone before.”
“Don’t settle for a fat hoe when only a skinny hoe will do.”
“Hoe, Hoe, Hoe. Get a skinny hoe for everyone in your family.”
“Complete your hoe collection with the new skinny hoe.”
“The tall skinny hoe—because size DOES matter.”
“Don’t let your fat hoe chew up all of your vegetables; use the skinny hoe instead.”
“A skinny hoe is better for your back.”
“A fat hoe is better in some situations but when you’ve got a hard small space, you need a skinny hoe to get the job done.”
Then I went to the local home improvement store and found my tall skinny hoe right away. It was less than $10 and has the best of both worlds with a skinny hoe blade on one side and a two prong rake on the other side. Guess I’ll have to abandon my skinny hoe gold mine…
