I have newfound appreciation for modern, gas-powered conveniences such as the lawn mower, tiller and weed whacker.  Without them (and my husband to run them), my yard would just be a jungle.

This time of year, I complain a lot about aching muscles from yard work, but what made me appreciate my gas-powered machinery is realizing how difficult settlers and homesteaders had it in the 1800's.  They had to plow using a team.  Sheep were the lawn mowers, and scythes had to suffice for weed whackers.

I recently watched a public television series in which three families were taken out of their 21st century lives and plopped right into the lives of 1883 homesteaders in Montana for five months.  After watching these folks suffer with period equipment, I'm grateful for the five-gallon plastic buckets I use outside so much.

Using 21st century technology, some friends and I discussed the program via email.  We noted that while the men seemed to find more satisfaction in their homesteader life than in their 21st century lives, the women found none at all.  Their work was an endless cycle of repetitive tasks.  They didn't get to stand back like the men and say, "Look what I accomplished," like building a cabin.  One woman from the program noted that nothing has really changed.

And maybe it's why I garden obsessively.  I want that satisfaction in a project where one can stand back, nod, and say, "I did that."

By obsessively, I don't mean I garden all the time, just when I get out there, I'm nuts.  I spent an entire day last month trying to plant my vegetable garden.  Rather than just smooth out the tilled soil and plant in the nice new frames my husband built, I felt compelled to remove the old mulch, dig out the paths to build up the beds, measure so the bed frames were on center and aligned properly, then replace the weed mat and mulch.  Eight hours later,  I managed to plant some onion sets and 3 potatoes.  And I only got the paths around one bed renovated. But it looks great.

Okay, maybe obsessive is the right word.