If you garden, there's a good chance you are constantly laying some garden tool down, and wondering where it is. Where you left it. Who took it. Why they didn't put it back. Or if you're like me, wondering if you remembered to get it in the first place, or if that was yesterday when you had it.
To solve my problem, I buy several of the tools I use most often - pruning shears, scissors to use when the pruning shears get dull and I won't take the time to sharpen them because I am impatient (at some point in life, you have to just own your faults and move on. Being impatient is one of mine), the moisture meter (or the DUH meter as we are calling it around here, as in "it's too dry: DUH"), twine, and occasionally gloves (although I've usually lost those by the second week of April).
To solve the balance of my problem - namely -where did I put it, or, where's the best place I'll have a chance of finding it, DH made me a garden box. The top photo is of the box at the midpoint in the yard (about halfway to the greenhouse and big gardens, visible in the background), under the locust tree, by the log benches and in the shade. It's sealed against the weather, has one hinged door that fits tightly, sloped gable roof, and several hooks inside to hang things on (which I never use because I am not a hanger-upper, I am a piler-upper (another fault). It sits on a post that's just dug in and then stabilized with rocks and gravel. At the beginning of the season, I spray the inside with wasp spray to keep any of them from getting too interested in nesting inside.
Inside, there's the moisture meter, the skinny trowel, scissors, and the always-misplaced pruning shears. The gloves would be in there but I'd lost them by the time the box was made.
It's also big enough to put a big mug of ice tea, or ice water, and keep it convenient while working but just out of reach of the bees.
And just because I like it, this is the log bench at the bottom of the garden box, covered in morning glories and lichens. It's also known as the site of the Great Bee Attack of July 2008, in which I was stung several times, but eventually emerged victorious the second day, thanks to a fresh can of hornet spray (fresh is the important word here as hornet spray goes stale over the winter - a fact the fine print on the label failed to mention during the first skirmish).
Now the bench is once again mine, and I can enjoy sitting in the shade. Of course the bees have regrouped and now live in the garage soffit, in a tiny place I cannot spray. And they called their friends - the yellowjackets, the wasps, and some sort of cousins that may be tiny hornets.
As long as they aren't in the bench or the garden box, or the Swing Garden, or the house, the truce will keep, at least until the first frost, when I win by default.