I was recently given a CD with a song, new to me, by Laura Story about mercies in disguise. LINK The back story is a heartwarming one, and you will also find it there. I hope it blesses your heart as much as it did mine.
What may seem totally unrelated, but is not: For the first time ever, I have a garden this year~ only because part of the church property is being used as a community garden. It is within walking distance of my house, so it works well into my plans for better health in more ways than one.
Our spring has been cold and wet, with nights dipping into the low 40's. And the wide open garden plot is windswept by the prevailing East Gorge winds, not to mention those that accompany storm fronts. So I did some online research into hoop houses after seeing a reference to them by one of my FB friends. It seemed to be the perfect answer to shelter my tomato plants overnight for the next few weeks.
I was pleased to find that I had most of the materials and was able to build one for right around $10. Well, almost build one. My Ryobi drill quit working, newly charged battery notwithstanding, before I could anchor the framing boards so they would be sturdy and not tilt with the torque of the PVC arches. I did, however, get my plants put to bed and snapped this shot with my phone, which I emailed to several friends and family members. (Yes, it does somewhat resemble a campsite... the chair is old and ugly and there to provide respite before my walk back home... and a place for another friend to visit with fellow gardeners.)
I had called one of those friends to ask if he would help me put the last 8 screws into my support structure. He said that he could. He agreed to call me the next morning. He did as promised, and came by to pick me up around 9 AM. I really wanted to drive myself, but that didn't go over, so I climbed into his pickup. On the way, he told me he had burned his tomato plants with the shelter he had built. That was more prescient than I ever imagined.
When we arrived at the plot, I started to unwrap my plants and was pleased with how much better they looked than the night before. My friend got out his drill and started taking my structure apart. I thought he just didn't understand that the plastic unwrapped from the other side. Not so. My structure did not please him, so it had to come down. I cannot begin to tell you my reaction. I was so angry that I had to walk away. First. Time. Ever. I did not have time for this, not to mention that I had done my due diligence and knew my plans. That did not matter to him. My friend has a heart as big as Texas, but he is also domineering and stubborn. Which also reminds me of Texas. He is not that much older than me, but he has the mindset of the generation of men who "take care of their women." I am of the generation that spawned women's lib and have by necessity become independent because I am single.
This was to have been, at most, an hour out of my day. My protests fell on deaf ears. Assurances of "this won't take long" turned into a 5-hour project that pushed lunch to after 2 PM without completion. I had many plans for the last working day before the Memorial Day weekend. Instead, this turned into day 2 of making a structure for probably 14 days of use. Not to mention a trip to find materials that more than doubled my cost and a trip back out to the garden plot to be assaulted by wind and rain and hail to do what would have taken me 10 minutes had my original structure remained in place.
I do not have a picture of the new structure for you. I have no pride of ownership in it; it is there because of my friend’s will. I can tell you that it is high enough to accommodate the tall cages my friend deemed necessary to place over my 6-12” plants. Maybe it will help the plants visualize the expectations placed upon them. For now, it just makes it hard for me to walk.
Perhaps my friend's intervention saved my plants. I'll never know; you cannot prove a negative. I only know I was pleased with the initial success.
Perhaps my friend's intervention saved my plants. I'll never know; you cannot prove a negative. I only know I was pleased with the initial success.
At the end of the day, I am left to search for lessons. I do not know how to stop my goodhearted friend from bulldozing his way into my space to impose his will, nor can I quell the anger that his presumption causes to rise within my heart. The most obvious lesson is to borrow the tool and not the tool owner next time. For now, I am left to ponder if my friend is one of God’s mercies in disguise.
