Imperfect Garden. Imperfect Greenhouse.

The gigantic box containing my new backyard greenhouse loomed on the front step.  I had successfully gotten over my eco-guilt for adding to the demand for new plastic.  And I had already started dissecting my next few weekends so I could fit “building a greenhouse” between parenting, work, cold weather, wet weather, being a present spouse, cleaning, and any life bullshit that could/will pop up. 

It was February. In Chicago. This project might end with a lost finger or two on account of frost bite. Worth it? To be able to get a jump on sowing seeds? I’ll let you answer that (in case you hesitated, the answer is “yes”). 

I lugged the box to the back yard, opened it up, and found the 900-page book of instructions. There was some doom and gloom language about needing a heavy duty power drill because some of the screws have the constitution of James Bond getting ball tortured by some evil someone or other (unrelenting). That brought my excitement down from a roar to a mew. Further instructions indicated that I’d need two people (pish), and I’d need to confirm all 8,387 pieces were there before I began. 

But what brought the mew to a hiss was the page about laying the foundation.

Mother crapper! A foundation?!? And it had to be precise? And by “precise,” per the instructions, the corners would need to be positioned such that, when connected by an imaginary line, they would achieve an undisclosed angle in the middle of the greenhouse. It also said I wasn’t allowed to just put one paver at each corner. I guess the sides of the frame would sag…or something.

Also, to prevent the greenhouse from blowing away in the wind, I’d need to install a stabilization method by which a tiny L-bracket would affix to the bottom of the frame and an unprovided screw would connect the bracket to the ground. Where the brackets get screwed in and how to accommodate those in/around the foundation was not discussed.

Assembly instructions should always list ‘brainpower’ under ‘tools needed.’ That way I could know I wasn’t fully equipped to assemble anything either after work or after negotiating treats with a 3-year-old.  

These instructions didn’t list ‘brainpower’ but it became evident from the word “foundation” that I’d need to locate that before getting started. Maybe I’d find some in the garage. 

I gathered what I could and started thinking foundation.  When I dismantled the old greenhouse, a small foundation of square pavers was left behind.  There were similar pavers scattered throughout the yard. The new greenhouse would be bigger, but I figured, maybe if I could combine all the pavers, I’d have enough.  

Well, define “enough”. Because yes, I could fashion a foundation that would meet the size of the new greenhouse. Would there be giant gaps between the pavers? Absolutely. Did I contemplate going to Lowes and lugging home 8 or 9 more to make things less awkward? Absolutely not. Was I going to try to pass this off as resourceful cottage-core rather than lazy/brainless desperation? Yes, that would be happening. 

I stole some paver sand from my husband’s stash. I also stole his level and worker gloves. And I hobbled around the 6 ft. x 7 ft. area like Igor from the Bride of Frankenstein. I hauled pavers this way and that. I slung sand bags to and fro. The use of brainpower added wrinkles to my skin which were then mortared with a combination of soil and sand. The hour I was out there added about five years to my face. 

The important thing about laying a foundation is that, apparently,  it needs its own foundation.. Start with a flat, level ground and end up with a flat, level foundation. I don’t know how these time-lapsed videos make it look so easy but I felt defeated by the process. I’d dig strategically into a spot, move the soil, and end up too low on that side. I’d add back in some soil and end up too high. Splitting the difference was maddening, even after evening things out with paver sand.

Well, I did my best. But I don’t think that’s saying much. A person more patient, more professional, and more precise than me would not have called “finished” what I ended up calling “finished.”

But there it was, pavers that were levelish, evenly spaced-ish, and ready-ish for the greenhouse to go on top. Part of the “charm” would be two thin strips of soil on either side of the middle path. By the end of the summer, and with some luck and planning, I’ll be calling these my prized lettuce beds. Everyone will be copying this totally-on-purpose design detail. 

When the foundation was executed, it was just a few more nonconsecutive days of cold, wet, and wind, putting together the greenhouse.  The instructions become easier after a few pages. Inexplicably, it was only the screws for the door and the window that strived for James Bond status. 

And those tiny L brackets? Well I screwed those into whatever empty holes I could find at the bottom of the greenhouse frame. I use the same method of wind proofing I used for my last greenhouse: landscape staples.  Secure a few staples into the ground through each bracket hole and that puppy’s going nowhere.  And I live in Chicago. It has been wind-tested and approved. 

I finished the greenhouse just in time for the seed-sowing season. And with every trip to and from the greenhouse to squeal at new seedlings, I casually ignore the terra cotta pot full of unused parts I haven’t installed yet.  

A perfect greenhouse with a perfect foundation would never fit into my imperfect garden. And a perfect garden would never fit into my imperfect life with my fellow imperfect humans on this imperfect earth.