Spring has been chugging along, and so have our plans for a vegetable garden.

G has really thrown himself into this project. He spent a few weeks cutting back brush, then another few rearranging some of the leftover structures that Steve had placed during his gardening era.

Together, we put down weed mat and assembled raised beds.

G has mapped out companion plants for each bed, and although we didn’t get organized enough to start our own seedlings, he has had great success procuring them from other sources.

Next year, we’ll be better prepared to start our own.

I celebrated my 25th work anniversary last year, and the only thing in the catalog that seemed remotely useful was a small greenhouse. G enlisted the help of one of his best friends, and they spent most of a Saturday morning trying to assemble it.

Noting their lack of progress, but not wanting to interfere too much, I casually looked up the instruction manual online. The first page, in large letters, stated “Do Not Assemble in Windy Conditions.” Clearly, they did not read the instruction manual very well, as it was one of the windiest days we had all spring.

The greenhouse remains a work in progress.

A few months ago, G tried to talk me into getting runner ducks to keep in the garden as pest control. If you don’t know what a runner duck is, join the club.

Apparently, they’re a flightless, upright duck that specializes in eating garden pests and weeds. They’re ideally suited for containment in a small garden area and can get by with a small wading pool, which then, when drained, provides a compost solution for watering the plants.

G also noted that they’re good egg producers and duck eggs are excellent for baking. And, they’re easily tamed, and with their upright stature, apparently highly entertaining to watch.

Truthfully, he would have sold me on them almost immediately, but my laundry room was still recovering from his chick hatching project earlier this spring and had only recently been vacated by the dirty half-dozen. It wasn’t so much that I minded them being in there; the real battle was trying to keep the dogs from getting their teeth on them. I tried to gently nudge him into putting the ducks off for a year.

As usual, fate had different plans.

Last weekend, I stopped at the feed store for more chicken food, and lo and behold, they had a box of runner ducks for sale. Six little fawn and white cuties. Six would be just the right number of ducks for our garden. I have to say, that moment of decision-making ranks up there with one of my all-time toughest mom moments.

On the one hand, I could walk away and pretend I didn’t see them. G would never know, and I could put off the purchase until next year. But, on the other hand, there they were, right in front of me. I’d literally never heard of them or seen them before, and there they were.

G had already made a good case for buying them, and when it comes to taking care of his pets, he is very responsible. Also, have you ever seen a baby duck up close? You try saying no to that one.

I compromised. I still had more errands to run that day, and didn’t relish the idea of keeping six baby ducks confined in my car for a few hours. So, I called G and told him they were there, and that we would go back the next day, and if they were still there, he could get them.

I figured if the universe wanted to test me, I’d take another chance spinning the wheel. I didn’t consider having to ride to the feed store with an extremely excited G the next day. As we got closer, and he started picking out names for them, I was faced with the possibility that his heart was about to be crushed if someone else had bought them.

I didn’t have long to worry, though, because soon we were on our way home with our six new friends and one extremely happy duck “dad.”

Things got off to a typical start when three of them staged a jailbreak in the parking lot and I had to chase them down. Then, G didn’t quite close the door hard enough when we got home, and the dogs almost had duck dinner. But soon the laundry room had new residents, happily splashing away in their water trough.

I’m now going to be spending all my time watching baby ducks eat peas, which, all things considered, is definitely not the worst way to spend time. Time will tell if they live up to the hype of G’s sales pitch.

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News