Kinky is bad when it refers to the garden hose!

Just trying to water the garden this morning was about as exhausting as running a marathon. Such a simple, pleasant chore should not be so, well, draining. 

I got up this morning, poured that long-anticipated steamy first cup of coffee. I abandoned my husband John in front of the television where he was settled into his morning ritual, and headed for the front porch.

I had more pleasant things to watch--a yellow goldfinch bathing in the bird bath, a few squirrels chasing each other around a tree trunk, and our cat Timi finally hunting lizards.

While enjoying the total serenity that lay before me, I tried to evaluate some of the things I needed to do in the garden. First on my list was watering. We had just planted a packet of wildflower seeds in our front garden, one that had been largely untouched for the eight years we've lived here. I knew it had been a garden once; there were two peonies, and clumps of daffodils and irises there. The other day, I scattered seeds onto the freshly tilled ground. Uncharacteristically, there weren't too many rocks in this garden, which is another hint that it was once well cared for. Its semi-circular shape was defined by rocks, as are most of our flower beds. Hey, if you've got free landscape material, use it!

I didn't get to water yesterday because John was trying to rig a new hose reel on a post next to the front porch. We had been using a hose reel hidden inside a box that doubles as a bench. It finally outlived its usefulness, as the reel no longer would turn.

John made a nifty t-shaped post with a place to hook up two different lengths of hose; each with their own shut-offs. The idea was to use a long hose for the front garden; a short one for the others. The project didn't go well, though. First the hole wasn't deep enough. He kept on digging. Finally when it seemed adequate, he filled it with a whole bag of concrete mix. Clearly, that wasn't enough so he got another bag, mixed it up, and dumped it into the hole.

During the course of all this, he mowed the grass, but not after he moved the hose so he wouldn't chop it into pieces. He threw it into a pile near the porch out of the way. Actually, the hose is a monster in three segments with connectors between.

This seemed like a great plan until implementation.

When I got ready to water the garden, I turned on the nifty little valve. No leaks. I began to walk the hose to the front of the yard. Did I mention that our yard is all uphill, at a fairly steep angle? When I gave the hose a tug, the post crashed to the ground. It was a tangled mess that I had hoped would unwind easily. It didn't. I had to disconnect it from the spigot and untie several knots it had gotten itself into. How doe these things happen? Finally, there were no more tangles. I went back up to the front of the yard, grabbed the nozzle, and turned it on. No water came out. The hose was kinked. I followed it all the way back, unkinked it in several places. Finally, I was able to water.

By the time I f, I was exhausted. I feel like I had just run a marathon. We still need to come up with a hose solution. Back to the drawing board. All I know is we will have no more tangles, no more kinks, even if we have to string it over our heads from telephone polls.