A Final Look-See

Well, its been good.

The zucchini, that is. And our time together on the blog. But really, the zucchini is delicious.

I can't promise this is the last post, but it is surely somewhere near the end ("Phew, thank you. Finally!" would be the appropriate response).

Just as any good story, though, it wouldn't be finished until we took a look-see at the characters in their post-acting lives (and by acting I mean acting out their lives in peace).

Let us begin with "beloved" Jordan. No one really knows why he obtained a title preceding his name, but it stuck, and he is "beloved" Jordan, not to be confused with Jordan the Beloved, who is another kid in the neighborhood that no one likes.

After we discovered that Jordan had a special interest in one of the winners from the Paint the Garden Extravaganza, he took a back seat in the limelight. In fact, he even avoided some of the lights and cameras, while preferring the action. His interests may have dissolved since then, but his memory lives on in, as does the "Don't Tread on Me" sign and some minerals from the last carrot that he ate from the garden. Last we heard he was learning to ski behind some orange hatchback. Ridiculous! Who would drive an orange hatchback?!

Dave, bless his heart, initially took to extreme sports and is rumored to have a movie in the making involving nitrous and explosives, or one or the other. At some point, though, his adrenaline ran low and he decided to take life slow. He was last spotted blowing milk bubbles and driving a mini-van. Whether this is true or not, we're not absolutely sure, but this picture was purchased from an un-named paparazzi. It is also rumored that Dave recently won a thumb-war with his current landlord, and now holds the rights to make a parkinglotgarden in his new place of residence. Keep your eyes peeled (both for the garden and some old man driving a mini-van under the speed limit).

As for Tyler, he grew a beard, hopped a train, and met some friendly hobos. If this were true, no one would doubt it. Instead, he lives more distant (50 minutes by freight train), though happily, preparing the soil carefully for next spring where he can plant his own Non-Parking-Lot Garden. Word also has it that he may have joined Dave in the big-screen venture or joined the circus. Either is possible. Watch out for the clowns. But really, our inside sources tell us that he has hunkered down somewhere, grown a gnarly beard, and for some reason, continues to lose and then find trinkets and knick-knacks on a daily basis.

And though never mentioned, what about Kory, our 4th roommate? He was always the mysterious one, both to us and the general population. This photo was recently shown on the evening news, as authorities finally cracked down on the culprits for the famed "Christmas Tree Smuggling". I don't know what type of time is associated with a crime like this, but we may likely never see the boy again.

You may remember that a number of plants were transplanted from their original cages. Typically, the wild ones don't do well in captivity, but how about when they are released back into the wild? Tyler adopted all species willing to put down roots in a new home, and a number came off grounded. Strawberries, for example, were a mixed bag. Some picked right up where

they left off and others spent their time lolly-gagging and eventually shriveled and died. It's been rumored, however, that a few of the plants even blossomed this fall, and who knows but that some tiny red berries were consumed by one happy gardener.

What about the zucchini? Lest we forget, he suffered terribly under the gnawing molars of a disreputable doe. He was eaten down and left for dead, but we nursed him carefully through the following months. He was transplanted to Tyler's house, where he took root and took off like a barrel of sea monkeys in the ocean. Some weeks later, just before the frost, he produced this orchestral vegetable and some tasty accompaniments.

Additionally, in spite of being a vegetable, he somehow managed to make it to the polls, early. His only sadness comes from knowing that he won't be around for the presidential elections of 2012. He made us promise, however, that we would support change. We said our vows and cleared our plates of him. No one ever said anything about changing for the better.

How about the potato dogs? You may not remember these, and it is likely, seeing that we never mentioned them. Originally, they were placed as guardians of the apartment complex. We were not allowed to have real dogs, and potato dogs were rumored to work just as well... that is, until they were discovered by real dogs, who ate them in two fell gulps.

Finally, as we shed our final tear, let us remember the onion. For some time, we felt that he failed to grow simply out of spite. "So easy," "the easiest," and "anyone can do it," were all comments made in regards to growing the onion. We considered ourselves failures, but no longer. Just last week, as if he knew the frost was coming, the onion sprouted one more stalk and proclaimed "I am done, already. Just pick me, dang it." So we did.

No Hard Feelings, Just Hard Skin

On the night of the garden's demise, certain vegetables were spared destruction. Among them were two green tomatoes. We believe they were Better Boys, but we offer no guarantees.

Our dearest Jordan insisted that when placed in a sunny spot, they would eventually ripen. Tyler begged to differ and volunteered to keep them in the sunniest of sunny places until the day when they began to rot. At that point, he vowed to make a rotten green tomato goulash and Jordan would be required to eat it as punishment for wishful thinking. Though none of us know what goulash is, it certainly sounds like punishment in itself, and most certainly would be if made with rotten tomatoes.

Two months have past, and the tomatoes are ripe-ish. No goulash will be made tonight (though possibly tomorrow so that Tyler can reap the reward of his doubt).

Instead, we decided to follow through on the garden's last wish and make a peace offering to the Landlord.

This package went out today.

We made a few assumptions about Mr. Scott, including his name and initials, but I'm sure he'll be happy as soon as he sees how ripe the tomatoes are.

Also included was the following letter:

Dearest Mr. Scott,

We want to begin by saying "no hard feelings." We are well aware of everything that occurred on that bitter summer's night, and no, we're not talking about the temperature. We also are aware of our owners' zeal for the garden and their general feelings of pride in their accomplishments. We acknowledge that this pride may have clashed with that of a certain landlord, and we abstain from making any judgments.

We offer ourselves unto you as a peace offering, as the last of the joyous harvest. Though our skin is wrinkled and old, yet our hearts are warm and red. We represent a summer of labor, a summer of laughs, and a summer of love. We recognize a moment of silence for those who have fallen that we could survive, and pray that their memories and minerals will continue on in the hearts and digestive systems of princes and paupers alike.

May the pollen of Vertumnus forever grace your blossoms.

Signed,

Two ripe tomatoes, (with wishes from the parkinglotgarden)

A Little Misunderstanding

It still seems strange to me why the owners were so set on the removal of the garden. Being "green" is the cool thing to do, especially if you want government funding (which we didn't want, and would not take because we have something called principles).

This just goes to show how political everything can be. When a group of students growing vegetables threatens your pride with Beta Carotene, Iron AND Folic Acid (had it not been for the Folic Acid, I'm sure we would yet be harvesting our beloved vegetables), you are left with no alternative but dictatorial mandates of destruction.

Sometimes I wonder if it was just a little misunderstanding that caused this.

In the words of Emerson, "Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood."

Yeah, we're going to go with that argument, that we were simply misunderstood.

Nonetheless, we're glad we gardened, and even looking back on these sullen faces, we remember more the happy times, the smiling faces, and the greenest parking spot in the lot.

In spite of all the happenings that fateful night, we still managed to look forward to better times (or at that fat lady standing on top of a building yelling at us). And that is what counts.

Does AD 455 Ring a Bell?

The other day, a shocking discovery was made. I say this while using passive voice, because we're still not sure who made it or what it was. Regarding the garden, however, we discovered that the parkinglotgarden sign had been removed.

I'm not going to point fingers, but Mark did it. Actually, I don't know who Mark is. I was just throwing that out there to make him feel guilty if there was someone named Mark that actually participated in the vandalism.

Before we go into the gory details, let me give you a brief history of Vandalism. The term originated in 455 AD when the East Germanic tribe, called the Vandals, sacked Rome. The term stuck, carrying with it a connotation of senseless destruction.

Now I don't want to insult anyone's family history, or harass them for attending a certain school (University of Idaho), but was this not a senseless act of destruction?

Where once stood a beautifully hand-crafted (on a machine) sign now sits a hopeless residue of glue, exposed on the brick face like the Emperor in his new clothes. Discovered at the scene of the crime was a shovel, which now sits in custody along with the candlestick, revolver, and Colonel Mustard.

I was raised by a mother that taught me to respect the property of others. I suspect that those who did this were not raised by mothers, but by vandals (either that or by Tasmanian Devils). Yes, the lineage has continued through the ages, bringing with it an inherited mutual disrespect for property. For these raised without mothers (not sure how the line passed on without them, but we'll leave that for a different discussion), we will now cover the basics.

Consider yourself motherized.

Fundraiser Follow-Up

In the commotion of other events, we almost nearly forgot to do a follow-up on the fundraiser. We covered the lovely painting and showcased some of the dance moves that were dug up from their burial plot deep in the 80's, but we never focused much on the individuals.

As for the winners... well, let us take a moment to highlight these success stories.

Winners:

Spinach: Jess. Of all the winners, she was likely the most excited. It was expected, though, seeing that one serving of spinach contains 145 mcg of Vitamin K. At the time, we suspected there was some type of relationship developing between Jess and our beloved Jordan. It was never disclosed, but we recently stumbled upon this picture, taken from the neighborhood neighbor watcher watch system.

Carrots & Tomato: Ryan. About a week before the demise of the garden, I sent a text message to this lucky man, whose fortune had brought him a double dose of winnings. The text message went as follows: "Dearest Lucky Winner, your tomatoes are ripe and the carrots are ready for the digging."

The immediate response back was "Oh my gosh! I completely forgot! That makes my [year]". The time period may or may not have been changed. Moving on...

JNCO Jean Shorts: For the sake of all those who may be watching, I will not post any pictures of the lucky winner, Mr. D. West, in his new JNCOs. That being said, I have had a small desk come up missing from my house lately, and I have a hunch that it could be hidden somewhere in those deep pockets. As fate has it, we will likely never know.

Lettuce: Now the winner of our lettuce was Ms. Brown in Oregon. Yes, we did have some donations from afar, and by no means were they disqualified from the winnings. Here is a short video of the prize delivery.

And accompanying picture of its receipt

Sprinkler World Paraphernalia: I had long since forgotten who won these prized possessions, until today, when my boss walked in in full Sprinkler World garb. Bless his heart.

A Date with Kory: This may have been the only time Kory, our "other" roommate actually participated in the garden. As for the date, I never knew if anything came of it. Wait, what's that sound? Sounds like bells, lots and lots of bells.

And what about the after-paint funds? As I recall, we were supposed to deliver them to the local food bank. And as I recall, we did.

Working ON trying to become the ultimate...

Tyler prepping the grill WITHIN the garden so that he can work ON trying to become the ultimate grill-meister AT the source of the food.

We sense that a number of questions have arisen due to this photo. Let us delve into a few with an in-depth analysis.

Q: I don't see any flames, or gas for that matter.

A:You are correct. As noted, Tyler is working on trying to become the ultimate grill-meister. He has not as yet perfected it. Give him a break. Geez.

Q: Is that hat really necessary to grill?

A: Just as Samson had his hair, so Tyler has his hat. It is a mullet in hat form, and hence gives him all manlike powers. Don't even try to seduce him to remove it. He's been growing it far too long.

Q: That apron looks quite feminine. Seems like a grill-meister would have something more manly.

A: No rebuttal.

Q: Are those Great Value beef patties?

A: Yes, and I'll have you know they were a rollback.

Q: Who is peaking out of the window?

A: I swear we've been over this neighborhood watch thing a thousand times.

Q: Was this really necessary?

A: uhhh... The end. Thank you for reading this post.

Working IT IN the Garden

This picture seems quite natural, but the truth is, none of us ever worked IT IN the garden.

In fact, we found this individual (Handsome Rob) working IT IN the garden when we were presumed to be away.

It was after incidences such as this that we decided to set up the neighborhood watch system. We couldn't have people working IT IN our garden any more, unless it was us.

Here is a picture we captured just after installing the neighborhood watch system. It appears to be a picture of Handsome Rob at it again with Dave's girlfr... uh, um, er... shoot. Sorry Dave.

Working OUT IN the Garden

As college students, we were always keen on working on our fitness. We are firm believers in the old mantra "If you build it, she will come".

It just seemed logical to work OUT IN the garden. By doing so, we could often both use and consume calories at the same time. It's all about the multitasking when you're in college.

Working IN the Garden

Dave working IN the garden

He's hard at work, even during the torrential watering season.

Research suggests that a workplace with natural light and plants can increase productivity by up to 28%.

Research also suggests that mustached garden pirates make excellent bosses (lack of a mustache decreases the rating to "above average").

Working ON the Garden

Tyler working ON the garden.

Fortunately, this only happened every few days. Once the corn was screwed back in (Lock-tite applied), his work was complete for the night.

Working The Garden

Over the last week or so, we have received a number of requests. The most common is as follows: "I know you have posted plenty of pictures of the garden, different vegetables, and whatnot, but we would like to see a few more pictures of you working the garden."

We have tried diligently to figure out exactly what is meant by "working the garden". Our white boards are filled with calculations and our notebooks, once white, are now a solid shade of charcoal. And yet we remain entirely baffled. See, it seems that as children, we were raised up in a different world, yea, even one of prepositions. Therefore, we are able only to respond in a way that fits both our understanding and our upbringing.

Therefore, over the next couple weeks, we will be displaying pictures taken over the course of the summer with us 'working [preposition added] the garden'.

Today, we will showcase our most typical - Dave working IN the garden.

Truly a sight to behold.

Watch out World

The storm has passed, the winds have blown over, and the cleanup is complete. It would seem as if life has returned to normal.

But honestly, we're not normal, nor are our lives. For most situations, I equate normal with boring, and life's too short to be boring. Sometimes you have to walk sideways when everyone else walks forward. Chances are, you'll see things they won't see, do things they won't do, and have experiences that they can only dream of.

Most people I know wouldn't fight to save a parking lot garden- but we did. We held our position and refused to back down.

Some say it was pride, others claim sheer madness. I say a little of both. Whether we are truly crazy or not, one thing is for sure: that fire that began to burn will not go out. We'll stand for the principles for which we believe, no matter the situation or application.

Watch out world, Don't Tread on Me!

Death Knows No Bounds

What happened Wednesday night may not go down in the history books with Custer’s Last Stand or Battle of Bunker (Breeds) Hill, but that doesn’t mean it isn't worth recounting.

Let me give you a brief recollection of the events that occurred leading up to the death of our garden: the way it unraveled, the players involved, and the instances of abuse of common law, respect, and dignity.

It began with this email received one week ago:

I wanted to remind you that the garden must be removed from the Kensington parking lot by this Saturday. You may call a junk removal service if you don’t know how to remove it, if we have to have it removed or call the removal service we will charge you accordingly. The rates for the junk removal service that we use are min. of $87.00 and upward based on the cubic feet of items to be removed. Please make sure that this is done or the fee will come equally out of your deposit.

Abuse #1: Insult someone, their family or property without prior confrontation.

Jordan replied courteously and respectfully, citing the facts and feelings behind our intentions.

The reply was as follows:

Jordan,

Get rid of the junk

A reasonable individual would respect the last wishes of faithful tenants and family friends, but reason was not to be found.

In order to comply with the wishes of the condo owner, the garden was moved to a new location (video of this to come) where it affected neither parking, nor trash removal, nor the owner. It seemed a perfect solution, and most would agree. The gardeners wanted only to harvest the fruit of their labors, and expected it to be fully reaped and removed by next month’s end.

Immediately following the move, we notified the owners and made clear once again our intentions and pledged to fulfill our responsibilities in the future removal of the garden.

The following email came as a reply:

Tyler,

This is the last email that we will be sending to discuss the garden.

The garden is still placed on Kensington apartment property. It needs to be removed. If the garden is going to be taken care of by the residents of the house next door, they need to find a spot to place the garden. Therefore, the garden needs to be placed on their property somewhere. However, it must be removed from the Kensington property. If the residents of the other house decide that we will accept for responsibility for the garden, they need to notify us by sending an email stating their intentions to [owner] (respect dictates the courtesy to withhold names).

Since the issue has become such a strong point, we are setting the lines. If the garden is not removed tonight by 8 o'clock, we will be charging $750 to the renters. This $750 will be taken out of the rental deposits for David, Tyler, & Jordan in which case you will recieve no refund.

As I stated before, this is the last email that is going to be sent from us regarding the garden and other issues at hand. If you have any more concerns, please call me directly on my cell phone. However, we are going to be strict to enforce the removal of the garden by 8 o'clock tonight (August 23rd).

Abuse #2 Issue false threats with false fines, with blatant disrespect to the law

Fortunately, we are well aware of the dictates of contract law, and a quick perusal of the lease agreement afforded us the confidence that no fee could be charged or deposit held without damage to the premise (of which there would be none). If they would like to set lines, it would be more than welcome, but similar to a wave that washes away writing in the sand, so too would the law wash away their fines (and stick them with attorney fees for both sides and possible judgment of up to 5 times the inflicted damages).

On Monday night, the owner appeared with his posse of patrons. Like a man who ate respect for breakfast and disposed of it by natural means, his demeanor was uncouth at best. His face was gnarled and bristling; his eyes squinted with brows slanted and sharp. We approached him, satisfied that upon seeing the present location of the garden, reason would set in, and a mutual agreement would follow. We were content with creating a solution which met the demands of both mercy and justice. Unfortunately, mercy had long run away, and justice was nowhere to be found.

“Wednesday,” was the reply when we pled for additional time. “Wednesday” was all we received.

I can’t say that he is to blame for his actions. We’ve all had days that we wish would pass. A restless night, disagreements at work or with family, or even a long drive, cramped in the car (or relaxing in a luxurious Volvo SUV), can contribute to a lack of patience for normal things, and normal situations. Who knows but he is a reasonable, respecting man on a normal day.

Why the owner, who had children of his own, had treated us like groveling peasants on this day, we’re not sure, but we didn’t take well to it.

Tuesday morning, Tyler made a call to the home owner’s association. According to his report, the individual with whom he spoke was both courteous and understanding. He agreed to examine the situation and then make a decision. Quite possibly he was a scholar of science and the scientific process, or possibly he pursued the study of law, and formulated proofs before drawing a conclusion. Either way, he was a reasonable man, and very respectable. The following morning (Wednesday), Tyler received a call stating that all things considered, the garden would remain in its present location until September 30, at which date, it will need to be completely removed from the premises. It seemed a logical solution, which allowed time for the garden to pay out, and demanded responsibility of the gardeners in the end.

Soon after receiving the call, Tyler dialed up the owner to inform him of this approval and ask his blessing. Much to his disdain, the conversation quickly turned south. The owner seemed bitter and contentious and ended with these remarks, “I’m going to talk to [the association president]. I’m going to call him right now!”

Later that day, we received a call from the association president stating that the owner had demanded the garden be removed, and that he was sorry, but we would need to honor his request.

A lot of prayers previously offered on behalf of the owner were quickly reversed. A fire began to burn in our breasts, and if there was any tea nearby, we would’ve surely dumped it in our kitchen sink (we don’t drink tea).

At that point, we did what any true American would do – organize a resistance.

The gardeners reached out for help to those who would primarily be affected by the loss of the garden. They were asked to contact the owner directly and petition his mercy. They were all sharply denied. Then, the press was contacted. Local as well as national figures were contacted. The owner’s information was dispersed to those who had previously taken an interest in the garden, and to some who were informed for the first time. In a similar manner, these too were disregarded as dross.

Next, the story took an interesting twist. In moments of pure genius, ideas began flowing.

Friends were consulted, and intelligence was transmitted. The decision was made - we would sell the garden to a current owner, or at least a current tenant. We made some calls and our best attempt at reaching an owner, but time was in short supply, and so were the owners. We settled for a sale to a current resident, who happily obliged. A Bill of Sale was drafted and signed, and legal tender was exchanged.

Abuse #3 Disrespect for the personal property of others, yea, even intention to pilfer

After the transaction, Tyler called the owner to inquire about his intentions. He worried that an exchange of personal property (the garden) might have legal ramifications if someone were to remove (purloin) it without permission. He replied that it was no concern of his, to which Tyler expressed his apprehension that the county jail is not a pleasant place and that he likely would not be receiving many visits, or at least not from people in these parts. The conversation then quickly escalated, and the owner drew once again on his conversation with the home owner’s association and the fee that would be assessed if the garden was not removed. Tyler stood his ground, and with the law on his side, informed the owner that we were not intimidated by threats, and that if legal proceedings were needed, so be it. At that, the owner invited him to advance with the proceedings (his first demonstration of reason in the situation). We’d rather not pursue this route for the sheer time commitment involved, but we remain on alert for the day when our deposit is returned (or not) to see if this will be our path. I hear that Judge Judy reimburses expenses. She is quite reasonable, so I think we’d all get along. The conversation ended with courtesy. Both parties wished the other well and bid farewell until a later time (assumed that very evening).

Soon after, a planned protest was organized. Time was fleeting and organizers few. We did our best, and that’s all that matters. The owners were seen hovering around the area near the time of the planned protest.

Abuse #4 Hover with the intent of stopping free speech

Fortunately, the hovering was to no avail. As soon as they left, a handful of friends, supporters, and allies marched over and demonstrated peacefully against the unreasonable axis power. Carrots and celery were passed out, gnawed down, and eventually disappeared like the sun on our summer’s labors.

At this point, we realized that it was a battle worth fleeing for. That is, to say, the troops were tired and hungry, provisions were scant, and the prize… well, it wasn’t worth fighting for, anymore. We three gardeners looked at each other with the same look and acknowledged that

the garden’s time had come. It wasn’t that we were conceding defeat. Not a chance. Success had come from a summer of work, a summer of fun, and the enjoyed satisfaction of seeing it through, responsibly. Not everyone can dedicate themselves faithfully to something this demanding. We felt satisfied to ruminate on our labors, rejoice in our accomplishments, and relish our victory.

We carefully undid what we had so diligently done. The strawberries, onion, and zucchini, all still alive and well, would be transplanted to their new home nearby. The corn, tomatoes, and peppers said their final farewells. The carrots were harvested and placed neatly aside. The dirt was removed shovel by shovel, just as that first spring afternoon, but this time with a different sentiment in our hearts. Memories of the first day in April flooded our heads, as did recollections of our initial excitement and jubilee.

Mid-way through our shoveling, we were abruptly interrupted by the parking authority- University Parking Enforcement. If by any means, you think they are associated with the nearby university, you would be wrong. These are the soul-less type, the money-loving, and the evil-wishers. They care not for the people they “serve” and many good men have fallen prey to their bait. It’s surprising what a few greenbacks can do to an otherwise healthy soul. Fortunately for us, he (tow-truck operator) came unequipped to handle such a request for removal. The last words I heard as he drove out of sight was “What a waste of time!” and to all a good night.

We continued to shovel until the deed was done. Our parking lot garden was now gone, and all that was left was the empty truck-bed shell. We carried it slowly to its resting place. The procession of pallbearers marched methodically and silently.

I know what some of you are thinking – why didn’t you continue the fight? If the law was on your side, why give up? Couldn’t you just move it somewhere else?

In response, there comes a time when you have to grow up and move on. We chose simply to move on (physically and literally, though, we have moved and gone our separate ways).

In closing, I know this post was long and detailed, but in truth, there is so much more that happened. You may have suspected that this is the last post. If you did so, once again, you would be wrong (assuming you were previously wrong at some point in your life). Over the next few weeks, we will resume our usual banter, full of the typical jocularity and optimism. Like a movie whose credits are playing, you have to wait to see what happens at the end. Stay tuned. Really. We have some good stuff. Really.

What's This? What's This? There's syn-ropanethial-S-oxide in the Air.

Who knew onions are introverts? Not I.

For nearly two months, the onions received all the attention that a vegetable could want: lights, cameras, water. The press gathered frequently around the bulbs and speculated about future success.

The onions were guarded carefully by the armed forces, and were enrolled in a disciplined regiment which required them to measure progress daily.

All this attention, it seems, just forced the onions back into their comfort zone (2-4 inches deep).

Weeks passed and no activity was noted.

Slowly the winds of attention blew over, the press moved on to more exciting stories (jackelopes and motorized couches), and the troops pulled out.

That's when the magic began.

We don't want to count our chemically-induced tear drops prematurely, but things are looking up (or down, depending on what part you eat) for the onions.

Certain Legislation

For those of you who are a fan of "reality" shows where staged drama IS the plot, this post is dedicated to you.

Did I say staged? I meant... shoot.

[30 minutes have passed]

Unfortunately, my eraser didn't work on this screen, so anything I type is stuck here for the world to see (though I can't, because the screen is covered in eraser marks).

Anywho...

This footage was taken this past week just moments after we decided to drill down for carrots. The totem pole rattled off a warning, but the lure of "orange gold" was too much. The juice was flowing (yes, we own a Juiceman II), and all was well, up until the totem pole made a snide remark about the size of the carrots. Tyler's temper caught fire, yet his argument was sinking quickly. A skirmish ensued, and a certain wooden figurine took flight for a few glorious seconds. Hope was instilled for a brief moment, before gravity came off conqueror. (See below for interactive map of the spill)

As you can see, it crosses territorial lines, so we're not sure how that will pan out. At this point, we're just trying to avoid a lawsuit.

All the while, poor Dave was caught in the middle of all of this. He didn't pull the carrots, but it was his garden, after all.

No need to worry, though, we've already informed the authorities. Congress is set to show up next January to decide how to proceed from here. Tyler set aside 17 dollars to pay Native Americans for damages done to the wood-carving business, and Kevin Costner sold us a Shop-Vac to clean up the mess.

We estimate there is a 65% chance that 47% of us will be paying higher taxes, and who knows if there will be a moratorium on carrots, radishes, onions, and other deep-rooted plants for the next 6 months.

Either way, the carrots are back in the ground, and judging by the amount of dirt on top of them, we assume they'll stay there for a while.

Salsa - it's Spanish for Salsa

For those overachievers in the world, let this be a lesson.

Literally, though, this post is a lesson on how to make home-made salsa.

Let's get right down to the meat of it:

Step 1: Have a garden (no further details needed)

Step 2: Harvest the necessary materials (see accompanying video)

Step 3: Mash all materials

Step 4: Pay accompanying fines to the FDA for improper food handling

Step 5: Grow another garden

Step 6: Harvest the necessary materials

Step 7: Implement FDA Food Code 2009

Step 8: Chop, Grind, Blend, etc.

Step 9: Act like an aristocrat, and enjoy

Step 10: Work it with the ladies

Gardeners by Trade, Pyrotechnicians by Birth?

We're gardeners, that's for sure.

I wouldn't say it's what we do best, but it is what we do often.

We're also pyrotechnicians. I wouldn't say its what we do often, but it's what we do best.

The real question lies in this: Is it environment or is it genetics? It's a question we'd rather not debate here, so... it's genetics.

We decided to use our God given talents and our Y chromosome and take care of our dried out pea stalks and spinach trees.

The lighting:

Whoops. I mean, er, the Lighting:

Don't worry, the bucket was filled with diesel fuel, just in case.

You don't learn these skills. You are born with them.

If you still disagree, talk to my mother.

Does 'Renaissance' Have Two S's or One?

This past week, we were honored to be graced by the presence and talent of Mrs Bernice Petersen, a local artist, gardener, and renowned chef (she makes the softest ginger snaps this side of the Mississippi). Indeed, she is what we would call a Renaissance woman. We invited her to participate in the painting of the garden, and were impressed when we discovered that she too has not one, but various parking lot gardens.

The owner of multiple apartments, she previously offered space to students for gardening. For some reason (laziness), no one ever took her up on the offer, and she finally decided to do the gardening herself. Much of the produce is graciously given to the tenants, who otherwise would be severely lacking in both thiamine and niacin, a tragedy we'd rather not discuss in these pages.

As discussed, Bernice arrived early in the morning. She knelt carefully on a blanket and painted swiftly. By the time I was dressed and ready to express my thanks, there was nothing left but a freshly painted garden, and a spoonful of fertilizer (she thinks of everything).

We couldn't have been more pleased with the outcome.

There may be some bias, but my personal favorite is this:

Thank you Bernice for your time and effort, and for contributing to the success of the garden. May your cookies continue to snap, your acrylic paintings crackle, and your pea pods pop, Rice Krispies.

BER - A Scientific Explanation

BER (Blossom End Rot).

Although we were disheartened to see such a gardening nightmare, we were enthralled to learn of both the scientific explanation and suggested resolution.

So what is BER?

First of all, let me give a disclaimer that certain individuals have previously complained about the technical level of the aforementioned material. Therefore, for the sake of the ignoramuses, who we'll call Dave and Tyler to keep them anonymous. No, that is too obvious. We'll call them Tyler and Dave. Yes. For their sake, we have included a brainless explanation that can be understood by both infant and imbecile alike.

Now, back to BER:

This may result from low calcium levels or high amounts of competitive cations in the soil, drought stress, or excessive soil moisture fluctuations which reduce uptake and movement of calcium into the plant, or rapid, vegetative growth due to excessive nitrogen fertilization.

Explanation for Tyler and Dave:

Not enough calcium (a vitamin). They go bad and mushy and stinky (not good).

After consulting with the Soil Science Society of America (SSSA), we have determined that we need to provide some type of calcium to the garden. We have since begun to allocate one cup of skim milk for every tomato plant per watering period.

Why skim milk?

the colloidal globules assist in the development of a phospholipid membrane, encapsulating the casein protein micelles bonded with calcium phosphate, which tend to scatter shorter wavelengths than both low-fat and full-fat varieties, providing for digestion of a key protein lactoglobulin, which aids in the absorption and storage of calcium in the vacuole.

Tyler and Dave:

because it tastes like water anyways, so the plants won't know the difference.

Why one cup?

simply put, because the lifespan of a tomato is equal to that of a canine multiplied by a factor of .0892. Therefore a standard tomato plant, which is 16% as voluminous as the average Golden Retriever, will consume on average, an estimated 28% of the typical 1st world canine daily consumption, but needs an average of 14% more food per relative day than the canine due to increased exposure from lateral extensions of foliage, has proven to react favorably to supplemental calcium when nutrients exceed the cubed root of the inverse of the tomato stem girth multiplied by estimated fruit circumference. Therefore, 1 cup is the logical amount to satisfy the Recommended Daily Value.

Tyler and Dave:

it's the only measuring cup we own.

Now that everyone understands well enough, we will give it a try and return and report.

Grass-Chompers Be Warned!

For those who wonder about the punishment of said crime:

Enough said.

Farewell, My Little Ones

It's time we said adieu.

"Adieu," said we.

So, moving on, let us continue to amuse with this riveting footage of destruction and mayhem.

And if that didn't wet your appetite for carnage, try this on for size

Um... yes, just disregard that one.

What I meant to say was this:

!

So, you may be wondering why. Let me entreat you to the answer. Weiner dogs.

Now back to the video.

Our peas lived a long and fruitful (are peas a fruit? probably not) life. They have since become nothing more than a fading memory of good times past.

Likewise went the spinach.

As for the flames - well, while pulling out the peas, Dave quickly discovered that a neighborhood spider had laid eggs. We were fortunate enough to catch them in the hatching period (fortunate for us, not for them).

Adieu peas. Adieu spinach. Good riddance spiders.

Adieu.

Don't Cry for Me

Onions.

"The easiest thing to grow."

Say no more. We're cursed already.

So a couple weeks back, I was given some onions from my co-worker Laurie.

Her exact words were "These are the easiest thing to grow. Stick them in the ground and they come up."

Well stick them in the ground, we did.

Not only did we stick them in the ground, but we marked their height for future reference, and placed a drone worker there to manage the soil (or de-mine it, whichever seemed most prudent to him). We also placed a time-lapse camera to capture the onion's growth.

Fourteen days later, we checked the film. Sadly, the only things caught on tape is footage of us marking the same spot each day on the measuring stick (don't worry Dave, we won't mention anything about the film of you playing with the army men, and we certainly won't mention the whimpering noises you made after a "worm bit you"). How this has happened, we're not sure. Even more disquieting is that the worker looks like he hasn't moved. What we're paying him for, I'm not sure, but I doubt he deserves it.

Now we're not sure where to go from here. Our tear ducts are full and ready to be used, but we just need something to cry about. (please see the newest poll)

It's Not All Fame and Fortune

This post is dedicated to our failures.

That's right, we're not perfect. Truth is, we have failed almost as many times as we have succeeded. To prevent incrimination, we won't say exactly who has been responsible for most of the failures. To keep it anonymous, we'll just call him T. Newton. No, that is too obvious. How about Tyler N?

Either way, here is a description of some of our more popular failures:

We originally filled 10 cups of dirt and planted 2 seeds in each. Of the 20 total seeds, we had two cucumbers and 1 pepper that came up. The other cups sat on our kitchen table for almost 3 months before we tossed them last week.

The cucumbers were transplanted outside on May 30. We proudly hovered over them that evening, discussing our genius and future fortunes. As we retired for the night, we were visited with dreams of cucumber fairies and pickled pixies.

For the 12 hours of their transplanted lives, they lived honorably.

Here's what they looked like after the snowfall.

By the next day, they had disappeared completely.

Now back to the last standing sprout: the green pepper.

While veiled in the robes of mourning for our lost cukes, we forgot to water the pepper and it suffered a slow and hot death in the window sill.

How about the other seeds we planted, such as sunflowers, broccoli, and banana peppers? Your guess is as good as ours. Twice we planted sunflowers, and twice we were skunked. Our broccoli and peppers never sprouted, and we soon dug a furrow through their resting grounds. I think they preferred a burial at sea.

And let's not forget the time we advertised our garden as "organic". The feds were on us like rats on a holiday fruitcake. Within 24 hours, the USDA showed up and shut us down. They issued a mandatory moratorium, claiming we lacked the necessary hive of ladybugs as required by law to maintain an "organic" label. Oh we had a hive... in fact, both ladybugs had been hand-placed in the garden. Who knew you had to register the queen bug with the USDA? (Don't worry, we resolved this one without AARP intervention).

Although we've had our share of failures, we must say that our fame and fortune has far exceeded our expectations.

In fact, our fortune now totals 12 cents (37 cents for a picture sold on eBay; however, we forgot to account for the cost of printing and envelopes - 25 cents, and yet another failure).

Our fame is basically nationwide as well. In fact, here is the link:

www.heraldextra.com

Scroll down to "Local News Video" and click on the DHTV Parking...

Paint the Garden Fundraiser Extravaganza

The title pretty much sums it up. Any time you use the word 'extravaganza', you are just leaving it open to whatever happens. That's exactly how we do things. It gives people some hope of something exciting, but if we fail, no one is too disheartened.

We began our fundraiser with our own significant donation to Tyler's fresh-emptied piggy bank.

It's what the founders would have wanted.

The event began around 9 pm.

To be honest, everything came together just hours before we started.

We recruited Kaden Shepherd as our (semi) professional skateboarder.

A ramp was found with a couple hours to spare (thanks Jill for your efforts).

After that, the rest was history.

Here are some pictures.

The event was full of interesting things:

The couches (motorized) made an appearance, and faked everyone out by pretending to attempt the jump.

Santa Clause showed up and bestowed everyone with presence (spelling intentional).

The jump was great. Kaden cleared it fine, and didn't even catch on fire.

The raffle was also successful. Not only did we raise enough to paint the garden liner, but we raised enough to donate to the local food bank.

And did I mention we had great raffle prizes...

She just won a leaf of fresh-cut spinach. If I remember right, her first words were "I'm going to Disneyland!" Say hi to Pluto for me.

He won a leaf of lettuce. I wonder what he'll do with it all.

Most importantly, we'd like to thank everyone that came out. Our goal was to make it a relatively painless experience, and we mostly succeeded.

Thanks to Ashley, Karin, Jill, Kaden, Clyde & Jana, and the city police for not shutting us down too early.

Believe in your dreams (a tear just fell from my eye).