Andy's Steps For A Perfect Garden

Or... "The Anal Perfectionist's Guide to Gardening"

1. Compulsively read every scrap of literature you can get your hands on related to gardening. This includes several trips to your local library as well as surfing through Internet articles. (Read the Internet instructions you found for growing marijuana, just for curiosity's sake.)

2. Cross-reference every tip you've read about how far apart to plant beans and obsess over the fact that everything recommends a different distance.

3. Spray paint your lawn with the outlines of several possible garden locations. Walk around outside a few times a day for several days, studying the ground from various angles, in order to make sure you have chosen the correct spot.

4. Drive home from your In-laws with 4 buckets of horse poop in your car for fertilizer.

5. Store said buckets in your garage until you are ready.

6. Have a wrestling match with one ancient, behemoth of a rototiller. Ensure that the machine weighs no less than 300 lbs, was built roughly around 1950, and the blades are about the size of a cruise liner's propeller. Make sure your wife has left the house so she doesn't have a heart attack fearing for the loss of your limbs.

7. Now it is time to plant! This is when you break out the detailed map you've been agonizing over for the last 3 weeks. You will also need a ruler, a yard stick, a tape-measure, and a level. Take 5 hours and carefully plant your vegetable plants and seeds using all of the above tools and referring often to your map.

8. Stare at the garden as often as possible and will it to grow. Check several times a day to see if a bean has sprouted yet.

9. Water your garden often. Even if your wife tells you that the Weather Channel says it is going to rain that night, water it anyway just in case. When it does rain that night, apologize to your wife in the morning for doubting her.

10. If there is even the slightest danger of a frost, carefully construct a circus tent over the garden using every spare sheet and towel, random 2x4's, metal stakes, and 50 or so clothespins. Do not be bothered if children mistakenly try to pay an entrance fee to see the circus.

11. Wait and wait and wait some more....

Seriously, most (but not all) of that is a slight exaggeration. It's pretty endearing how seriously Andy takes his gardening. And although I did mutter at him a little bit under my breath while I spent 20 minutes the following morning deconstructing his "circus tent", I know it will soon all be worth it. We will have a vegetable garden with few rivals.