You can shine all the buttons on your green shirt

I caved and bought a hoop house, and not a modest one.  I could live inside it.  I have, in fact, lived in smaller spaces, as has been well documented on this very web site.  Here’s a general schedule of our first few days with it:

Friday:  assemble hoop house.

Saturday morning:  eagerly move scrawny, desperately sun-searching seedlings into hoop house.  Install thermometer and hose.  Watch hourly and document temperature change as the seedling soil ruptures and the new leaves pop open in time-lapse fashion.  Watch the temperature reach triple digits and high-five melon seedlings.  This will be our year.

Saturday night:  haul everything back in, because of course in my excitement I might also have planted a hundred or so new seeds, and because it still gets down around freezing at night, even in the hoop house.

Sunday morning:  move newly invigorated seedlings back into hoop house.  Meticulously arrange contents of hoop house in a way that the contents of any of my living quarters have never seen.  Watch again as the temperature reaches degrees that would make any Vermont-born thermometer melt, while the seedlings lap it up.

Sunday evening: again dash everything inside, where flats and treys now cover the freezers, the tables, the appliances, the drum set, and the squirrel’s bed.

Monday morning:  wake up to snow. Greenhouse maxes out at 45 degrees.  Curse everything.  Seedlings shake their fists at the skies.

In any event, I can’t tell if this means I’ve become a yuppie or I’ve really committed to growing vegetables.  Possibly both.  Possibly, if I keep up this attitude, I’ll end up living in there.  Which would be okay, given how nicely organized things are there.

One Comment

  1. I personally recommend taking your morning cup of coffee out to the hoophouse, sitting and sipping with your eyes closed, and pretending you’re in Hawaii. Or at least Florida. Any place where they look at you funny when you talk about temperatures in the negative. “Negative temperatures? What do you mean?”
    But don’t mind me. I may be sick of winter…

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