Oh, good lord, people, I just learned that there is this thing called eco feminism that somehow involve only poking tiny holes between your blades of grass and planting in a way that doesn’t defile mother earth. I would have thought, and in fact remain suspicious that it actually is, that eco feminism would be about the ways in which environmental damage is borne disproportionately on the bodies of women. But not tilling your garden will not liberate me; I’m just saying.
Forcing libertarians to clean my bathtub while the crankiest of them are coerced into rubbing my head while I drink their beers? I might find that liberating. I don’t know. I’d have to try it a couple of times to see, but I’m betting.
Anyway, so my plan is thus. We’re going to measure out the size of the garden and till it all. I’m keeping in mind Bridgett’s admonition to not till what you don’t want to weed, but I’m going to stand in my far back yard, beyond the creek, and decide how best to measure and mark that and leave room for marigolds everywhere.
My only question is this–how do I, not owning a truck, get the tiller to my house and back? Are there ones small enough to fit in my trunk/backseat if I put the seat down? Why didn’t we listen to the Butcher when he said he wanted a pickup truck?