It should not be understated just how big of an achievement this garden project is for me.

This past weekend I completed this project that I’ve wanted to put together a couple years ago, but life being what it is, something always came up that prevented me from doing this. Second thoughts, mostly, followed by third, fourth and fifth thoughts where if I’m to be honest, something bright and shiny derailed me all together.

First, this raised garden bed, measuring at 5 feet by 10 feet, isn’t overly difficult on paper. It’s a rectangle and unless you are spatially challenged, it’s just two lines in one direction and two shorter lines in the other direction. Simple.

Here’s the deal though, and it’s a pretty big deal, I really stink at these kinds of things. Woodshop, which I highly support being taught in schools to avoid more people like me in the world, was a nightmare of saw dust and botched joint fittings.

I still have a checkerboard hanging in our home that I “made” when I was in high school. I actually remember the process vaguely. Sure, it required a certain level of math [strike one]. I was required to use another level of creative abilities to bring the elements together in a unique looking project [strike two] and I had to use heavy machinery, specifically a lathe [strike three].

But, again this was a checkerboard, so simple right?

However, like any grand plan of mine, nothing really lines up. Granted if you walk by really fast and maybe spare a glance along the way by, I might convince you that it looks passable, but once you take a closer look you will agree with everybody else that maybe I shouldn’t be allowed near power tools.

Still, how hard could a large rectangle be? I even followed a video that was only about two minutes long, explaining the procedure narrated by a pleasant-sounding woman that had all the faith in the world that I could do this.

I felt kind of empowered rather than the over-the-head feeling I should have had. Sure, in the back of my mind I realized that I was tearing up a decent chunk of my lawn and if this didn’t work, returning the yard to its former state would be difficult. Things like this have put me in holes before — literal holes.

But, in life you have to take up challenges and so I took up the challenge to destroy my lawn.

I started a couple weeks ago with the purchase of the spacers and it felt good. Finally, I was taking the first step in a long-term project. Something that reaffirmed homeownership.

It took another week, but just this past weekend I bought the wood necessary to put it all together. This was the first indication that maybe this might be too much for my meager little mind. Walking around in the lumber area of Home Depot felt like putting me in that neighborhood you really don’t walk alone in at night, or that old house you know is haunted but you go in anyway knowing that creepy little girl with the long black hair  crawling on the ceiling is lurking in the next room.

What exactly was I doing here? I recalled thinking this as I turned one way, then turned the other specifically looking for 2 x 6’s. Ultimately, I needed seven of these cut to lengths of five feet, totaling 14 pieces. When I walked my lumber up to the gentleman I tipped my hand to an  employee that I maybe I don’t  know what I was doing.

By the way, it’s really not wood. When you’re a commoner like myself it’s wood, but when you’re building stuff and being manly, it’s lumber. Luuummmbbber.

He very politely told me from the get-go they don’t cut anything less than 12. Okay, to be fair, leaving it at just the number could be confusing, but when I threw out and he only looked at me. Clearly, 12 feet is much different than the 12 inches I thought and it makes a lot more sense to realize nobody is going to spend a lot of time cutting one foot pieces off for people at a Home Depot.

I moved on though, laughing it off like it was just a slip of my thoughts. Inwardly, I started to back off my idea and started thinking about other things I could use the spacers for. Unique steps, really big paper weights, things you put in your front yard requiring people ask, “why are those things in their front yard?”

But, I was committed by this point so there was nothing for it but to barrel on ahead, moving on to the question of whether or not this amount of lumber will even fit in the car. The Ford Focus isn’t really known for its load-bearing  capabilities. They aren’t even really known for its snow driving capabilities.

Let me spare you the suspense, they did fit, but barely and as people are driving by in their trucks filled with materials for much bigger and professional projects, I’m trying to slide in pieces of wood … er, sorry … lumber into the trunk, back seat down to allow for a bit more room.

Probably should have stuck a wide, flat pencil in my hat to at least look the part.

The first shovel-full of lawn was nerve-racking, but eventually I was throwing my back into it, doing real work and in a surprising amount of time I found I had it all laid out, ready to be assembled. Really, could this be this easy?

No. No it couldn’t. Stupid want-to-be builder guy.

As with the checkerboard, nothing lined up, despite measuring it all out to what I thought would be correct. Even more, making sure it was all level proved to be another challenge all together. Before too long I was falling back into my old routine of using a technique I thought might work — swearing at it.

Swearing, as you may know by now, has been developed into something of an artform, in large part thanks to a youth spent around a horseracing track where swearing was seen by the trainers as social development for an eager mind.

And, after a large amount of swearing … success! It all came together and now I have a garden that signals the move to the next challenge — making sure everything survives which no doubt will require more swearing, but I’m ready for this challenge.

I’m already thinking of brand-new words that will mark me as a true home-owning genius.