My Life In Mud Boots: The Garden

FB post 2 days prior: A gentleman came by today and tilled a vegetable garden plot for me. I’ve never had a garden nor have I an inkling of what I’m doing but this is me to a T….leaping into the great unknown, blind and cannonball style. ( TRUTH) This is my flare! Let the adventure Begin! ( Oh for Pete’s sake) I’ll let you know if this project comes with a profanity rating or if I need prayer. lol  ( Yes to both)


Those of you who read my “Mud Boots” saga have gotten a pretty good idea of life on the ranch. Summer and winter both present their own challenges.  Unloading hundreds of pounds of feed, throwing hay, mowing, mucking stalls in 110° heat is enough to make you want to give up the ghost.  In winter, mucking stalls in 18° weather, the well freezing for days on end and I’m trudging through ice and snow from the kitchen to the barn hefting 5 gallon buckeds of water to fill troughs.

Much of the time it’s a comedy of errors but its never short on hard work. Its a job in and of itself but theres still a household to run with its shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry and I also happen to manage the show great dane and I’m the ranch book keeper.


APPARENTLY, I don’t have enough to do so I decided to grow my own food as well! Yep, a garden. I must’ve lost my mind for a moment…just long enough to get a plot tilled and a supporter in this madness, Clay, who must’ve lost his mind right along with me. First, I have never gardened. In fact, I am widely infamous for my black thumbs. I can and have killed cactus!

This realization dawns on me while trying to rake the insane amount of grass out of said plot while taking a break from filling the trough I’d just scrubbed in 100° heat. What on earth was I thinking?!?!?!? (Actually it was more like “what tha #&*%! Aw Hell naw!”)

Here’s the great part! Have you ever wanted to explode at someone, riding them to the ground with your bare (blistered) hands wrapped around their throat? I have. Just the other day when my husband had a brilliant idea that he excitedly presents to me with eyes glittering and radiating with honest delight….He would build me a screened frame so I could SIFT THE DIRT! Oh yeah! If it weren’t for Jesus I’d….

©Laura M. Bailey, All the shoes I wear & writing down the Bones, 1990–Present. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Laura M. Bailey with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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