Sacred Heart Garden

As few of you know, I have waged war upon the ten-thousand square foot beast that is The Sacred Heart Garden (or known as Mom’s Garden, THE Garden, “Oh, fuckinghellno,” The Weedy Hell-hole, or The Reason we Hate Saturdays.) Why? For this reason.

On Tuesday I sat up and wrapped my arms around my stomach and did not like the way it felt. I began to wish I was one of those people who could commit and go to the gym. Who had the willpower to get their desired body. It was at that moment of self-pity that I just so happened to glance behind me, looking out my window doors, and saw The Weedy Hell-hole. It clicked, like someone flicking me on the back of the head: Your gym, and the greatest workout, is right there and it is in the sun. I decided right then that I was going make that garden Better Home and Gardens cover story worthy.
I immediately went to HEB and got the supplies I would need to stand the heat: five bags of ice, a pack of Gatorade, and two gallons of sport water. Then I went to the local garden store and got what I’d need to revive the garden: organic bug repellent, organic plant disease prevent and kill. When I came home I told my mom that I’d need to borrow the truck (or Diesel Beast). I got the large ice-chest, loaded it up, and put it along with the garden supplies in the truck. This was just Phase One of my plan. Phase Two? Super soak the ground to make the weeds come up easily and attack the garden with such mighty vengeance to make Thor seem demure. It worked. Those weeds didn’t stand a chance.
I still have a long, long, long way to go  but I am winning. I could go on to write about the deep emotional reason I am doing this but I think I will write that post when the garden is finished. For now, it is because I want to be more athletic looking and to have applicable strength again.

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