Getting to Work on the Flower Beds

After procrastinating for a couple of weeks because I was a big baby about my sprained foot we are finally getting to work on the flower beds! It’s going to take a lot to restore them but the start we got to today makes me feel confident.

Getting to Work on the Flower Beds

Getting to Work on the Flower Beds

Author: Elizabeth

I'm a wife, mom, and grandma (known as Bam) who loves cooking, baking, gardening, and all things that go into making a cozy coop for my brood. I have a disability so you may pick up tips on how to do things when some things just don't work right!

32 thoughts on “Getting to Work on the Flower Beds”

  1. You’re allowed to be a big baby when your injured, its a rule somewhere πŸ˜‰ I laughed so hard at the rocks being the only thing that survived(paraphrasing there) You got a lot done! I know it’s not all what you wanted done but you will get there, and I can’t wait to see the final results so you must take us some pictures, or take me some anyway and every one else can enjoy them too πŸ˜‰

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    1. I’m planning to get pictures today of what we’ve gotten done so far. And Eileen came by today and I’m going shopping at her house for perennials. That woman may be the most generous person alive!

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      1. I died. It was slow and very sad. I worked outside from 8 am until 5pm. I can’t walk at all now and Pete is sending stuff for Mr C to make an easy dinner for us. I was going to suggest lumberjack floats.

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      2. Aww, thank you! I’ve already been outside. We finished the hill and the west bed yesterday. I tried taking pictures but I need to wait until the shade is gone from the hill. Today the east bed. Tomorrow the world!! LOL

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      3. LOL Mr. C now likes to act like he was born on one but when we met I had to teach him to drive the garden tractor. I wouldn’t even let him touch the big field tractor.

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      4. hahaha, well I learned on an old red farmall. My sister actually still has it. We shared the cost of having it restored but she is older and bossier than me so she gets to keep it at her place πŸ™‚ LOL which is fine. As long as one of us has it, it’s a blessing.

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      5. Yeah the farm is gone. The city grew up all around it and well, they’ll regulate you right out of farming in the city. It took us about 5 years and many miles of travel to find all the pieces to get it back to “new” but yes that tractor had been in the family since before either of us were born. Our grandfather as well as all the grand children spent many a day on that thing, so we had to keep it.

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      6. I refuse to drive past my farm. It breaks my heart to do it. It had only been owned by three families since it was built right after the Civil War. Willis, who built it, a family who moved in and then the son who took it over from his parents, and us. Since I left there have been more families in and out than the previous (more than) 100 years. I’m glad you still have the tractor! Those kinds of things are more important than people think!

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      7. Yeah, I’m sorry Elizabeth. I don’t ride by my grandparents place anymore either. My grandfather built 4 brick houses, plus of course there was his and Grannys house, and we lived there in one of the brick houses. It use to be all orchards, farms, now its all building, and offices.

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      8. Yes, and God has blessed us both with new homes, and you’re getting yours just the way you want it with pretty garden and a duck palace πŸ™‚ lol πŸ™‚ Where we were, due to progress, is so crime ridden now, I wouldn’t want to live there any more. It all works out the way it is suppose to. I am thankful for the great memories and for the new ones I am making now πŸ™‚

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      9. I loved my farm but I had to give it up. Someday, in private, I’ll tell you all about that. Now I have my rundown little house that’s filled with laughter and love. If I had to go back to the old situation, I wouldn’t trade even for the farm.

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    1. I complain a lot. It’s a horrible habit I got into when I first had the spinal cord injury. Now THAT hurt! But I catch myself whining when it’s something tiny like my foot. The funny thing is I’m the only one who hollers at me about it. And, sadly, it’s a two-way conversation. “Ow! Ohhhhh…my foot!” “Stop complaining. You’re getting on my last nerve!”

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