Last week I built the walls for this raised-bed wonder. Interpret “build” loosely. I stacked bricks, four high, on the perimeter of my space. Yesterday I bought my herbs. Last night Joe brought dirt home in the truck. Interpret “dirt” loosely. It’s more like solid, water-logged, potent-smelling mud.

I considered letting it dry out another day. No. If these herbs are going to make it, they’ve got to be tough from Day One. There’s no plant-coddling here. You like well-drained soil? Try some clay. As they say, What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. These herbs will be strong or dead.

The herbs came in biodegradable peat pots, which I’m sure are meant to be the height of eco-friendly planting convenience. I’m not convinced. First you must cut off the plastic on the top half, then remove the bottom half (which takes most of the top half). With the plastic pots, I give a pinch and a shake and the plant falls into my hands. I can reuse plastic pots. I can’t reuse plastic wrappers and pieces of peat pot.

Eco-friendly efforts don’t always translate as we intend.

Neither do financial efforts. I spent about $40 on herbs in order to save the $25 I would have spent buying them at the grocery store this summer. Yesterday I went to Borders. On Fridays, if you buy a bag of beans you get a free coffee. So I spent $12 on coffee beans, about $4 more than my normal amount, to save $2 on a cup of coffee. I have saved negative $17.00 in 24 hours.

That’s the way writers do accounting. That’s why most writers are poor. But we’re happy. We have herb gardens and coffee.