It Was a Perfect Plan

Moderate temperatures were promised.  Home Depot's founder just donated $50million to HBCU's so I felt good about shopping there.  Not-Kathy and Aunt Jane were there, too; hugs were exchanged.  I loaded up a cart with lettuce and spinach and celery (!) and Early Girl tomatoes and basil, checked myself out, and was at the garden ten minutes later.  That's when things began to go awry.

It was hot.  

In order to reach the handle, the kiddo who volunteered to open the umbrella was found standing on the tree stump that holds it up - a definite no-no.  Whistles were blown.  Conversations were had.  It all worked out in the end (I'll remember - no feet, no knees, nothing but my bottom on the stump) and tears were averted, but it was a close call.

I found the clay pots I glued together last year in my first attempt at creating inexpensive olla balls.  They were enmeshed in spider webs holding little white balls of baby spiders (ugh).  We decided to put the lettuce in the raised bed on the playground side of the garden's fence.  If we can manage to keep from eating it for a while, it should cover the space with healthy snacks.

We practiced taking the seedlings out of the six pack.  We dug holes as deep as the root balls.  After gently separating the roots, we planted them and tucked them in.  We dug holes to house the faux ollas and buried them.

It was time to water the veggies in.  I took the 4-way-key out of my pocket.  I placed it on the valve and turned it.

Nothing.

We checked for kinks in the hose.  I turned it off and on.  A few sad drops dribbled out of the nozzle.  Worse, there was no left over liquid in the watering cans that hang on the outer fence.  (Only spider webs!!!)

Not only were there planted lettuce seedlings, there were all those other veggies sitting forlornly in their containers.  There is no way that any of them would survive without a thorough soaking.  I sent an email to Mr. Guy, who's in charge of outdoor spaces, wondering if, once again, the middle school had shut off our water without telling us.

The Perfect Principal walked by; she promised to get your water turned on.

 

While I was fretting, Miss Stella, the most helpful of the Garden Leaders, organized her fellow 5th graders into an old fashioned bucket brigade.  From the cafeteria's water bottle filler to Grandma's Garden and then back again, they spent half their recess saving our plants.  They were all new to the garden;  Miss Stella is quite persuasive.

I'll be back tomorrow to finish the work.  There are bigger ollas for the bigger raised beds and the bigger plants.  

It seems like another perfect plan.

We shall see.