That's what I said last night at our summer early bedtime, which is east of 11:00 when possible.
Jack and I were at the farm and ready to garden by 8:00, and I am here to tell you that 85 degrees ( and rising) is what it is no matter what time of day you're pushing the wheelbarrow. We intended to get a much earlier start, and since we aren't officially into summer yet, we have plenty of time to improve our gardening schedule to get things done without killing ourselves out in blistering heat.
We got behind weed-wise two weeks ago when nearly six inches of rain fell over the course of five days and left our garden spaces full of sticky, muddy dirt and an amazing crop of morning glories, jimson weeds, thorny little whatever-those-are, and assorted grass between the row of tomatoes on the upper length of the garden and the row of beans on the closest lower length. It was a big patch of solid weeds, and by the time the ground dried out enough for us to work it, the whole mess was more than ankle high and in need of special attention. This morning a combination of line trimming, wheel hoeing, sweating, and swearing, Jack and I reclaimed most of our space. There's still a thick patch of weeds for the reckoning and plenty of other work to be done, but two hot hours this morning and two shadier, less-miserable hours this afternoon made a world of difference, and our "to do" list this evening is far less daunting than when we started this day.
The spring garden has hit-and-miss with bok choy and radishes once again being our A+ performers, but staying ahead of the cabbage worms on the bok was an almost impossible task, and I don't even want to talk about the broccoli, but I will.
I REALLY thought I was on top of the broccoli game back in February when I had four whole trays of little plants bopping along in the guest room windowsill. I still thought I was on top of the broccoli game a couple of weeks after we planted the sets, then the deer came.
