A couple weekends ago I started building a raised bed garden. The goals for it were to 1, be squirrel-proof, 2, be big enough to reasonably contain all the seedlings I'd already planted indoors, and 3, be not so large that it would eat up a dumb amount of the yard. This was the design I came up with (a modified version of something I saw on the internet):
12' long, 7' wide, 6' tall. I used 2x8s for the raised bed (wider boards woulda been better but lumber is still halfway expensive), 4x4s for the vertical supports, and 2x4s everywhere else. I used plain 'ol pine - instead of treated lumber - for anything that was above ground. I didn't want to invest any more money than I had to in something I may decide to change up next year.
There's nothing fancy about the construction, and I made a solid effort to not get hung up on every last little detail being perfect. That said, I wanted the thing to be level and plumb so there was a lot of temporary bracing until I got everything locked into place.
As usual, I had my trusty helper supervising the work every step of the way.
Getting the hardware cloth installed was easily the worst part of the job, and my first plan of attack didn't go real well. Long story short, I ended up adding 2x4s on top of the 2x8s to both raise the bed elevation a bid and give myself a little more surface area to staple the hardware cloth to. Unfortunately, the change in installation plans meant I didn't have enough hardware cloth so I called it quits for the weekend.
Since I had the bulk of the job under control, I decided to start the following weekend by taking the dogs out so Roscoe could try out his new wagon. He was my hikin' sidekick for about 12 years, and now that his back two legs are essentially paralyzed he's stayed home when I take Freckles on outdoor excursions (his choice, not mine). I hate that he can't walk, but the truth of the matter is that over his 14+ years of life he's gotten every last mile outta his legs that he possibly could, and not too many dogs - or people - can say that.
But I got to thinkin', which is always a dangerous endeavor...he can't NOT go on the hikes, he just can't WALK during them. Hence, the wagon. I wasn't sure if he'd be chill in it or if he'd be all squirmy and scared, but he handled it like a champ.
We went out to Glencoe, MO, to a trail we've hiked several dozen times over the years. It's pretty flat and relatively smooth, which I figured would make the wagon-pulling halfway easy. It was a good 4-mile adventure, complete with me wiping out in slimy river mud while trying to carry Roscoe down to the Meramec. I even let Freckles, the 75-pound tank of a little girl, pull Roscoe for a minute; she didn't hesitate nor did she have any problems.
After the hike I picked up more hardware cloth and got back to work on the garden.
Getting all the little seedlings planted took a minute, but it all kinda came together eventually.
So that's the garden. Peas, bell peppers, broccoli, carrots, basil, and 1 cantaloupe plant just to add a little chaos to the mix. All organic, all heirloom. We had some insane wind for 2 straight days after I got everything planted and I'm not sure the peas survived, but that's how this farming stuff goes...🤣