The little cart that could.

When we were first married and moved into our house, which is where we have been ever since, I really thought I was a country girl.  Like straight up farm life.  I planted a garden, I made things grow that, quite frankly, my in-laws thought I could not do.  I remember the first year I planted peas - my father-in-law thought I was nuts because I planted in March.  But, I had a garden companion book, “Victory Garden”, and it said to plant peas on the ides of March. So, I was out there clearing snow off the garden to put my pea seeds in.  That’s right, I said seeds.  I was so hardcore that I didn’t use starts, I used seeds, right in the ground.

    

So, I had peas and they were great but few.  I had no idea how much to plant.  I was one of those novice gardeners that had way more zucchini than one household needed and not enough peas.  And, it was so much work!  My interest in gardening waned a bit after a few seasons of such hard work, my little children and just not enough time in the day.  My father-in-law gardened for many years and kept me in tomatoes, which was really all I cared about.  We had an occasional crop of pumpkins and flowers, particularly zinnias, but my gardening days were short lived.

However, I received a fancy garden catalog and drooled over a cart.  I really wanted this yard cart, not a wheelbarrow, not a wagon, but an Agri-Cart, because I was so agricultural you see.  I decided it would be the perfect Mother’s Day gift and ordered it for myself, announcing to husband and children they were off the hook.

 

I loved that cart from the minute I opened the big box to assemble it, with only a little help.  Hauling stuff around the yard I felt even more country than before.  I loaded it up with gardening tools and fertilizer, buckets for water and pushed that cart around my two acres with pride.  While I have moved away from vegetable gardening, I still have those needs for my flowers and trees.

 

I use a wheelbarrow a lot for chores because it’s usually out in the yard somewhere and I think of it as more rugged.  The cart has become a secondary, almost like a classic car stored in the barn for special appearances.  I would cringe when hubs would ask "Where's your cart?" not knowing what he had in store for her.  It has deteriorated a bit, and hubs has left it out in the rain a few times.  Which caused a finger wagging if there ever was one, let me tell you.  This is my cart and it is loved, and that pressed board construction just can’t take those wet conditions.  The paint is faded and the wood is swollen in parts, the tires are flat, but she is loved.  

This weekend, after promising her for several seasons that it would happen, I gave the cart a fresh coat of barn red paint, covering the national park green I used when I took it out of the box many years ago.  Since I was also putting a second coat of paint on our new shed, seemed like a good time to give my cart a shiny new color.  Now, if I could only find the bicycle pump to put air in those tires, this cart might have a chore or two left in her.