I got a wild hair about a month ago and set out to build a raised bed garden in my backyard.  This was a somewhat odd thing to do because I had just interviewed for a job in Montana and wasn’t sure I’d be staying in Salt Lake for much longer.  But, not being a slave to reason or sound decision making, I decided to throw caution to the wind and build an elaborate garden nonetheless.  It has been a cathartic experience to conjure up an idea and bring it to fruition.

I started by doing some measurements to see what kind of structure I’d be dealing with.  I measured 14’x9′ of ground… and that’s how big the garden is!  It never even occurred to me that it would be acceptable to leave a little space around the perimeter for good measure.  Shucksy doodles as my little friend Lucy would (apparently not) say.  The next step was to remove all extraneous material from that plot of earth including railroad ties, rusty nails, bricks, etc.  I displaced a very large rat in the process, which was a real treat for neither rat nor I.  At one point Jimmy was looking for a brick and I told him to look in the yard, near the patio, about 8 inches under ground.  And you know what, there was a brick there!  He was baffled and I was overly pleased with my knowledge of the lay of the land.  For inquiring minds, there is definitely not a shoebox full of money under there.  Nope, definitely not.

I drew up the plans and went to the hardware store to buy lumber.  I was my most brilliant self in deciding that the wood needed to be resistant to water for optimal longevity, however chased that by being my least brilliant self and buying 14’x9′ of Redwood.  For those that are unfamiliar, Redwood is more expensive than the average college education.  So now if shit ever hits the fan, Jim and I have a secret backyard asset which we can sell or trade for water, ammo, or precious metals.  I knew this lumber would requiring some cutting and that I was the one to do it.  So I did the most logical thing on the planet and bought a saw.  I had spent a summer in Big Timber, Montana, renovating a cabin that was built in the 1800s, and it was during that time that I learned a thing or two about slicing and dicing timber.  I was unfettered by the fact that I had not used a saw since then– a mere seven years, but who’s counting.  So now you’re reading the musings of a proud chop saw owner.  Read between the lines, I’m kind of a big deal.  Always ones to trust but verify, Jim and I decided to seal the already water-tight Redwood with another water protectant.  Because, you know, you just don’t know.  And also it’s a good way to take two days off of work because that glossy veneer needs time to dry!

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The assembly process was not without peril.   The first step here entailed leveling the plot of earth.  I did my best, and made a foundation of cinder blocks, however I’m just one woman and know nothing about foundation building.  If you ever come over for a barbecue, leave your level at home or risk my wrath.  The boards needed to be assembled and joined.  I quickly realized this was not a step which could be accomplished by my lonesome.  I employed the help of Jim and Jamal.  However my fastidious tyranny was met with the reluctance of my peers.  Intrigue!  I felt a very powerful commitment to this project by this point and really wanted it to be perfect.  Any any old man will tell you that perfect is the enemy of good.  To my chagrin (and greatest fortune), the gents finished putting the slats together when I was out of town for work.  I didn’t have to pull my hair out over how straight the boards were, and they didn’t have to deal with my pacing, fretting, and speech making from the balcony window about how under my dictatorship we will overcome and take back the yard.

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The backbreaking task of filling this puppy with soil was the next item on the agenda.  I have no words for this endeavor other than that I moved about 4-5 tons of soil from our driveway into the garden bed.  This was the living worst.  I may have slipped a few discs in my back, and I may develop cauda equina syndrome and soil my britches for the rest of my living days.  But the garden is looking fierce at this point, so it will have been worth it.

Finally the screen, the tomato fence and the gate.  Everyone in the house tried their hands at stapling screen to wood.  I put the gate on totally kiddywampus, fretted about it for days, then I left town (you see the trend here?) and Jim the James straightened it, relieving my angst and restoring my joy (as he does and is known to do).  It is perfect.  Except for that it kind of looks like a plant jail.

A Hip! Hip! Hooray! to my co-conspirators Matt Fuller, Big Jams, and (my wonderful bae and best half) Jim.