I had a little time this evening between getting home and going to see the Star Trek movie (our tentative verdict: decent as a movie, not so good as part of Star Trek canon, passes the Bechdel-Wallace test but only technically), and I thought I’d get a couple of gardening tasks done since it was sunny and warm but not terribly muggy. (I miss springs. I used to live in a place that had springs. Admittedly that place also had tons of pollen and I hated spring because I sneezed my way through it, but you can’t have everything.)

To maximize the time, I asked Eric to do a couple of non-plant-involving things with me. “Why am I the one doing this?” Eric said as he sprinkled Sluggo around the strawberry bed.

“Fine,” I snapped. “Go back inside to your computer then.”

“No no,” he said, realizing he had pissed off a pregnant woman. “I just wondered if there was a specific reason, because there aren’t any harmful chemicals in this or anything.”

“No. I just wanted a little help because I have other things I want to do.”

“That’s fine, that’s just fine.” He finished his task, and completed the other one I’d asked him to do (hammer down the nails in the stakes that used to be the pea trellis), and then started picking up sticks, probably because he feared for his life if he abandoned me now.

Meanwhile, I planted peppers. They’re tiny things that may or may not make it, but if they do, I’ll have three Buran peppers, two Poblano peppers, and two jalapeno peppers. No Fresco chilis or Beaver Dams, which disappointed me. I don’t do well starting peppers or eggplants, probably because I don’t coddle them enough. I also planted cilantro and nigella and celery and Mrs. Burns’ lemon basil.

I wanted to start putting up bean supports and tomato stakes, but then it was time to eat before we left, so I obeyed Eric’s rather tentative suggestion that we go in for dinner. I’d stopped being annoyed shortly after I snapped at him, and he knows my temper is normally that quick to equalize, but I have to admit I don’t mind having this sort of power while I’m pregnant. Generally the garden and yard are my responsibility along, but perhaps I’ll ask him for more help on the next sunny day, since apparently he’ll be afraid to say no.

Advertisements