Grow little plants, grow!

The manfriend is a man possessed right now. Gardening is all that’s on his mind. It’s so freaking cute I can hardly stand it. He sits on the couch at night with his $5 drugstore old man classes perched on the tip of his nose while reading gardening books and suddenly I know exactly what he’ll be like at 70. It’s a comforting thing.

I can’t even begin to estimate the amount of time and money he’s put into this year’s garden so far. I know he spent about $150 on seeds. But he’s also built a greenhouse to plant starts in, supplies to build hoop houses over those starts to protect them from the spring weather once they’re transferred to the beds, and all sorts of things to get those seeds started off growing big and happy in our home. Yes in our home. We were joking the other day that someone paying attention to the deliveries we’re getting (grow lamps, plant heating pads, etc.) would think we’re up to something nefarious. Quite the opposite, unless you’re Monsanto.

He started broccoli seeds last Sunday. He had sprouts within 48 hours. He’s also calculated that after another huge expansion of the garden, we now have 515 square feet of vegetable garden space. Heck, when I met him, his condo was only 600 square feet.

It’s a helluva hobby this man has. I can’t complain. Who would knowing that soon we’ll have fresh, homegrown produce?

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