I ate my tomato. Yep. After two years and 12 tomato plants,
I finally got to eat my one and only tomato.
Never mind that I
didn’t plant that plant. Darling Daughter did. But it was my plant and my dirt.
So technically it was mine.
Some may wonder why this self-proclaimed Indiana farm girl
has trouble growing vegetables. I was the horse and cow farm girl. Dad was the
gardener. He grew a great garden every year. But he couldn’t milk a cow. I can.
Apparently his green-thumb gene jumped my generation and
went straight to Darling Daughter’s. She can grow anything. It’s disgusting to
we black-thumb people. And my experience with the tomatoes has pretty much
convinced me that I should work on other garden veggies. So this fall I popped
some lettuce seeds in a big garden container. Oops. Now I’ve got lettuce
everywhere. This stuff grows like weeds. It won’t be long before I’ll have to
eat lettuce, lots of lettuce. But that’s why I planted it. I had a sudden
craving for Mom’s old-fashioned wilted-lettuce salad. Why, I don’t know.
Perhaps my stomach wants to wander back to my childhood years when all had I
had to do was milk the cow and gather the eggs.
Why the need to garden has cornered me in my older years, I
do not know. To tell the truth, being semi-retired is kind of boring. And I’ve
been told that if a person doesn't take on new challenges in later life, brain
degeneration is sure to follow. So I've taken on several new challenges, which
keep me busy buying things. Everyone knows my number one hobby is SHOPPING! I
love to shop. I love to get deals. And I never pay full price for anything. In
gardening, I filled up my pickup truck with plants when they went on sale for a
buck each. Some of those plants still have to be planted. I really got to get
on that.
But it was such an
unpleasant surprise that, as a gardener, I have to dig in the dirt. With a
shovel. And I have to put my hands in the dirt. And they get dirty. I got dirt
ground under my fingernails so deep I may have to resort to bleach manicures. I
have to get down on my knees and rear end to get to all those plants. And let
me tell you, at my age, after sitting in the flower bed for an hour, digging,
pulling weeds, mulching, etc., it is not easy to get up! I just hope no
neighbors or passers-by are watching as I attempt to get off my derriere.
That’s why I look around for possible peekers at my predicament before my
struggle to rise. I usually make it with no watchers running in to ask if I
need assistance. I may be getting on in years, but I do not have a need for a
Boy Scout at every corner to escort me across whatever street, or challenge, I
may be attempting to cross. I did notice it is easier to garden on your knees,
but only if your knees work. Mine seem to have forgotten how to bend, without
pain, climb stairs, or work at all. So it’s bottoms down for me in the flower
garden.
Speaking of flower gardens, I may not be growing veggies, but I am patting myself on the back for my flower garden. That little plot is amazing! Did I do that?!? Wow! Ok, I’ll give the flower nursery the kudos for great, and apparently hardy, plants. I give them applause because I haven’t killed those plants yet. They are growing so well, I went out and shopped around for more. I did mention shopping, didn’t I? Shopping on the Internet is so much fun. Oops. I need to quit buying plants. As I write this I get another email message. My fifth order for flower bulbs is on its way. Better get busy! So far I have purchased 223 flower bulbs for various flowers, from anemones to zephyr lilies, whatever those are. It just occurred to me, that’s 223 more holes I have to dig, a lot, in the dirty dirt. Good grief. Get me away from the buy-by-internet sites. Now I really have to go outside and play in the dirt. Dad would be proud.
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