The Greenhouse Effect

I recently moved to Washington from Michigan (“Why?” everybody asks; because!). The trick to gardening in Michigan is finding a sunny enough spot for your veggies to grow without being shaded out by the hardwood tree canopy. Apparently Eastern Washington requires different tricks. This spring I started most of my seeds inside, and once they began to sprout I decided to build myself a raised garden bed rather than buying a pre-assembled one. I soon filled my garden bed and needed a second. I was constantly battling hungry animals who really appreciated my carrots, peas and kale. I needed reinforcements. After briefly entertaining the idea of building my own greenhouse, I swallowed my pride and ordered one. This thing was supposed to be easy to assemble and sturdy, measuring 15x7 feet, meaning I could have all the veggies my heart desired for a very affordable price. I felt like a vegetable king.

So when the greenhouse came I waited until the weekend to assemble it, giving myself plenty of time to complete my project. After about 4 hours of MacGyvering the metal frame together, with plenty of blood, sweat, and not quite tears, but one instance of yelling at my phone for Siri to call my landlord for help (she didn’t), the greenhouse was assembled, nestled perfectly in my front yard.

All was well and my plants were set up inside, warming up in my tropical little hovel. Then I heard the first roll of thunder. I called it a day and went inside. Feeling incredibly satisfied with myself, I listened to the thunder and rain come in and watched the clouds from my kitchen window. The window that looks out over my backyard. So imagine my surprise when, in the time it takes me to blink, I hear the wind blast through the trees and see my greenhouse flying past the window. My brain completely shut down and in seconds I was running through the yard in pouring rain and lightning, dragging this crumpled greenhouse under a tree so that it didn’t fly across the wheat field that meets my yard. Not good. Running out of options, I wedged the greenhouse under the closest tree and booked it back inside. Not an hour standing and this thing looked like an inside-out umbrella. With an entire night of inclimate weather, I was nervous about what I would wake up to in the morning. All night I heard the wind and thunder, saw the rain and lightning, and wondered what the fate of my poor greenhouse would be. I truly believed I would have to drive around until I saw it in someone’s front yard, if I was lucky enough to find it. To my surprise and at this point unending entertainment, it remained where I left it the night before. Granted, looking a little crooked and very muddy, but still standing!

I needed reinforcements for my reinforcements. I went out and bought a roll of Visqueen, duct tape, steel wire, t-posts, and cinder blocks. Then I went to work, reconstructing my greenhouse into a greenbunker. After all of the carnage, my veggies and planters were still standing, not a hair on their heads remotely disturbed. It turns out, a greenhouse is a really big and expensive kite. Although it’s been blue skies since then, I’m feeling much better about the entire setup, and I think I’ve learned my lesson in shotty structural engineering of plant homes in Eastern Washington. I will report back with any developments, and hope that one day this can provide young gardeners with an urban legend to heed before diving headfirst into year round planting.

Left: my rehabilitated greenhouse Below: my cat Newt criticizing my vegetables

See you in the dirt - Delaini