He's been threatening to do this for months. I was less than enthused. He won. I'm getting used to it.
We moved into this house at the end of July, four years ago. When we bought the place, there were a few raised garden beds on the south end of the yard, already growing a large row of kale, some tomatoes that appeared to be late season volunteers, something that might have been garlic (I tasted it once and it was harsh), and a bunch of raspberries that made entering through the south gate challenging. When we tore down the chain link fence that first year, and put up a wooden privacy fence, it was assumed that the south end of the lawn would no longer get enough sunlight, so we moved the garden to the north. We built elaborate raised beds and put up a short fence to keep the dogs out. (I use the term "we" generously. I helped a little. Not a lot.)
The first season we grew veggies there was mediocre, at best. It was the summer I was here alone, and although it had been fully planted in May, my heart wasn't in it and I barely got anything out of the garden that year. The next year it struggled again, and I began to suspect the black walnut tree over the fence was both shadowing the garden and making the soil less hospitable to veggies. Last year I got more tomatoes and cucumbers after the black walnut suddenly died (not the only one in town to do that in the last 12 months), but nothing else thrived.
For a year, Mr S-P has wanted to move the garden back to its original spot. He's convinced that the other big tree in the back corner of T's yard was also shading the area too much, plus the house was casting a long shadow in the morning. Today he went out and pulled up more than half of the flagstone patio he had installed on the south side that first year, the one that never had the proper underlayment and was overwhelmed by weeds (that he rototilled and essentially sowed evenly like laying sod). He had picked up a pond liner at the building salvage yard last year, intending to use part of it at the cabin. Instead, he sunk it where last year's tomatoes had done so well, after consulting with me about which direction I wanted it to lie. (I wasn't given the choice of "no, don't do it at all.") Then he moved some of my daylilies from the short fence to the side of the pond, and he dug up my giant white rose and put it on the back side. He's going to move the fence to just behind the rose. He put one of the newly salvaged grapes on the fence there, and we'll figure out something to go in a short raised box that will fill the gap. Then he will dig out everything else, move soil and compost and timbers back to the south, and properly lay out the flagstone patio on the north side. I say properly because this time we are both in agreement that we will dig out dirt, put in weed barrier, then a pebble underlayment, then sand, then the flagstones. This time the stones won't rock and won't be buried under six inches of purslane weeds.
I wish I was more help this year. I get sore if I stand up long enough to wash a sink full of dishes. I put together an elaborate salad for lunch while he toiled in the garden, and I think we were equally sore and tired while we ate. I did get enough of a cold winter that I'm excited to see everything start to sprout and bloom now. (There's a rain/snow mix coming next week.) I'll probably still put together a couple of containers of flowers. I just don't think I'll be able to pull my weight when it comes to weeding or vegetable gardening. I do, however, promise to have the occasional cup of coffee on the new, upgraded patio. I think I can do that even while recovering from surgery and going through radiation.
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