Your method might be ok for many vegetables, crabjoe, but there are crops like tomatoes that should never be allowed to wilt if possible. Alot has to do with the crop growth stage and most certainly your soil. I find that cucumbers can almost never get enough water from single daily waterings once they start pumping out fruits. Any crop producing heavily will need more water. Also crops with a larger vegetative canopy will transpire alot of water on a hot day. Surrounding weeds add to the mix; mulches can lessen the needs substancially. I agree with the good comments but there are so many variables that come into play with watering that it is almost an artform to do a good job at it. Fortunately most plants are forgiving if you are not too exacting at it.

How do YOU decide "when" to plant your various veggies? Me...well, I figure many seeds are cheap and I can sow early and if the weather holds I may get an early harvest. If not, I resow in two weeks and have only lost a few seeds that were probably extras anyway. With more expensive seeds I'll wait or only put in a few hoping for an early start. If I were farming a huge area this would not be the mindset I'd use. You can't give many absolutes with gardening since conditions change from day to day and year to year. It keeps gardening challenging...and maddening at times. If one wants to fuss with season extenders many dates can be pushed a bit. If you want things easier and less stressful you can give up possible earliness and wait a bit. In some areas this might mean things get too hot at the other end of the season so you have to decide what you want to try. Don't let worry stop you and figure some things will not do well. Every year it seems that conditions are such that some veggies grow great and others don't do so well. Two years ago when it was very hot and dry I had amazing peppers. Last year with cooler temps the peppers weren't so good but lettuce grew much longer into the summer. We can't control everything and the varying answers people give you may well reflect the way they choose to deal with the uncertainty. If you want to garden you will have to accept that not all will go perfectly no matter how much you plan and how well you care for your plants. But planning and good care will usually give you a fine harvest...not perfection, but close enough.

Here is an interesting article that I ran across today...really speaks to this topic: ========================================================== One writer struggles to believe that a new house does not equal a new and better life. by Jodi Helmer Everything would be different -- if only I lived in that bungalow; the charming one with the gabled roof, dormer windows and wide front porch. I would throw dinner parties, sit on a leather sofa in front of the fire, bake biscuits in the kitchen, sip sweet tea on the front porch, wear colorful rubber boots to work in the garden and let the dogs run free behind the white picket fence. It's my own house -- too tall, too thin, too little charm and a neighborhood that's not hip enough -- that makes this lust so palpable. Or so I've convinced myself. I stand under a towering oak tree across the street and stare; I walk past after dark to peer in the lit windows for a better view of the interior; I search real estate websites for virtual tours. All the while, I imagine the life I could have if I lived in one of the picture-perfect bungalows. Things would be different. Cozier. Better. "When you covet a house, it's not the house you're after, it's a different version of your life," said Meghan Daum, author of the book Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House. "We trick ourselves into believing that it's our house that's holding us back; if we moved into a new house we'd be a better cook, our relationships would be better, we'd be thinner, we'd entertain more..." I feel better knowing that I'm not alone in thinking a new house equals a new life. From the moment I signed on the dotted line to buy this townhouse in 2007, I had plans to sell. Maybe that's why I'm always looking over my shoulder at other houses -- because I've always believed that the house I own now is just a place to live until something better comes along. In fact, each time I think I've eyed the perfect house -- the one I'd cash in retirement accounts and inheritances to own -- I develop a crush on another one. Even if I'm fortunate enough to own one of the bungalows in my favorite neighborhood, I'm certain that I'll continue to lust after other houses. I'll develop crushes on houses in more desirable neighborhoods with bigger front porches, prettier gardens and more historic appeal. If there is one thing I know about house envy it's that the condition is chronic; the attraction to real estate never stops. A few months ago, I hatched a plan to move into the perfect house. One evening, while I was walking the dogs, I noticed that one of the little bungalows I loved had a "For Rent" sign in the front yard. I took a flyer and spent the rest of the week trying to figure out how I could move into that house. Once again, I was picturing myself hosting dinner parties, drinking sweet tea on the front porch and wearing rubber boots in the garden. A friend suggested that I rent out my townhouse and move into the little bungalow. It was the perfect solution -- and then I thought about what moving would really mean. The truth is, I would rather meet friends at a restaurant than entertain; I hate leather furniture almost as much as I hate baking and biscuits; I prefer Diet Coke to sweet tea; and the last time I had a garden, the plants were either overgrown or dead. While I am waxing poetic about wide front porches and picket fences, I am ignoring all of the things I love about the house I own: It's just the right size; there are French doors in the kitchen that lead to a private patio, an oversized bathtub in the master bedroom and loads of storage space. There are even dormer windows. Blinded by bungalow lust, I've forgotten one of the most important things about the place I live: It's more than just a house; it's a home. It's the place where I mourned the end of a marriage and celebrated the thrill of falling in love again. It's the place where I negotiated my first book contract and spent countless hours hunched over a computer in the office to meet the deadline. It's the place where I made Christmas dinner solo for the first time, cutting potatoes and carrots with a dull paring knife and checking the roast 20 times to see if it was cooked. It's the place where I fostered six dogs, doling out rawhides and cleaning up accidents until each one found its forever home. It's the place I retreat to; the place I feel safe. The house is not perfect. There are no hardwood floors, no built-ins and no picket fence -- but there are memories and each one is far more important than a big front porch and wide wood moldings will ever be. I know I'll never be cured of house envy. I'll continue to fall in love with a new house on each block but the next time I'm standing under a towering oak tree and peering in the windows of a picture perfect bungalow, imagining what life would be like if I lived there, I'm going to remember that it might be a beautiful house but it's not home.

I am so sorry to hear about Gracie. Sue, my rottie (also named Grace) had an adrenal tumor but it presented as cushings-- it am sure you have read about it but cushings causes a crazy food drive which combined with the anxiety can make for aggression. Luckily my rottie never had aggression-- at 115lb, if she was aggressive, I would have had to stop all treatment. Her food drive was something else though. I remember one day my father brought me a frozen container of homemade vegetable soup. I set it on the counter and walked outside with him as he left. In the short amount of time to walk him to his car-- maybe 10 min MAX? Grace had gotten the frozen quart container off the counter, broke through the plastic and ate all the *frozen* soup! Another time, I walked into the kitchen to find her on her hind two legs with her snout in a pot of simmering roasted veggie and lentil soup-- hot! This girl loved soup! LOL Because the tumor (like cushings) was producing large amounts of corticosteroids-- the hormone responsible for the fight or flight reaction. Like I said, Grace wasn't aggressive but she had a high level of anxiety. She couldn't just relax. She paced constantly.. and when she could relax enough to lay down, any sound had her back up. She wasn't sleeping. I wasn't sleeping. It was exhausting for her.. and for all of us. Because surgery wasn't an option for the second tumor, we put her on an anti-anxiety pill. It was a huge help and might be something to discuss with your vet. Grace actually lived MUCH longer than the vets expected and I believe the anti anxiety pill made that possible. It did nothing to cure the tumor-- but it helped keep the symptoms under control.