what husband sows, wife shall reap

My husband rocks.  He rocks because:  I talk, and he listens.  I point, and he buys.  I pick, and he plants. I'm selfish, and he's amazing.  I'm ugly, and he is nice looking.

But for purposes of this post, we'll stick with gardening.  Check it out, yo!  Seven different kinds of tomatoes!  Three varieties of peppers!  Sweet onion, basil, spinach, And More! 

We (he) started gardening a few years ago, and each year is a learning experience.  We've learned not to overcrowd the beds and we've set more realistic expectations on the fruits of our labor, i.e., one tomato plant is NOT going to provide enough fruit to save for the winter and save us hundreds off our grocery bill.  Especially because squirrels eat flipping EVERYTHING.  I keep telling Eric he needs to wrap each of the beds in chicken wire to keep the squirrels out but every year he blows me off.  I swear if any God-blessed squirrels eat my tomatoes this year I'm going to L-O-S-E it.

Here are our fun little raised garden beds.  Pay no mind to the leaves in the beds or the uncut grass.  Priorities, people.  We also got a couple of large galvanized tubs from Eric's grandmother's auction which we'll use to plant annuals and herbs.  They are just the thing I've wanted for our patio.  (Tangent: the tubs are awesome and I kind of think it would be cute to put a baby in one and take its picture.  Not to get all Anne Geddes on you, because you know, I would not be so contrived as to put a lettuce leaf on its head or anything.  Now gimme your baby.)

My main objective here to reap such a magnitude of tomatoes that I would then be forced to learn how to can and preserve them and horde them under my bed for late night snax.  But that never happens because I eat them up the day I pull them off the vine.  Have I mentioned I luuuuuuuv tomatoes?

I can't wait until our garden grows!  Come on, Summer!