A Gardener I Am Not

This summer I gave it a go on the gardening thing.  It was pitiful.  Utterly pitiful.

I started seeds in the spring.  Half of them died.

I bought a flat of 10 strawberry plants–thinking I could have fresh-out-of-garden strawberry shortcake–only one survived.  And what that means is, nine died before I could even put them in the ground.

I started tomatoes, carrots, peas, green onions, leeks, and peppers.  I harvested a handful of peas, literally, a handful; no more, no less.  No onions or leeks.  No tomatoes.  I’m still waiting on the peppers (of which I’ll probably never get for the growing season is almost over), and I’ll pull the carrots after the first frost (I’ve heard that’s when they get sweet).  I don’t expect very many carrots, given my track record.

I don’t know how I feel about all this non-fruitfulness.

On one hand, I’m okay with it.  Like I said, a gardener I’m not.  Gardening doesn’t give me a sense of fulfillment, satisfaction, or well-being.  But then again, maybe that’s because I really haven’t seen much grow to maturity.  Some people really enjoy gardening, all of it, but not me.  It doesn’t do for me what a good book does or a shopping excursion or even a documentary for that matter.  It’s not really my thing.

However, on the other hand, I feel badly about what I wasn’t able to produce.  I want so much to reduce my carbon footprint, save a little more money, and to eat more organically.  An abundant garden could’ve done that, but sadly, not at this address.

It’s been said that anyone can grow a garden, even a dummy; thus, Gardening for Dummies, but it looks like I’m beyond even that.  What’s a step removed from the dummy status?  Dead, I guess.  Well, that’s where I land, as does my garden.

Okay, so it’s not all that bad, but my neighbor next door can grow luscious things in a week, from bulb to blossom.  She has a huge composting bin, a composting ball, and pretty things growing all over her property.  I look over in her direction and want to ask her if I can sit in her yard for a while and imagine it mine, but that might be a bit tacky.  So I wish for a greener thumb, knowing it probably won’t happen.

I have three house plants that I’ve been able to keep alive for quite a few years, but they aren’t thriving as they might in another’s hands.  But I’m okay with that too.  Just having a couple corners of living greenery in my home makes me happy.

So, though my “garden” was a wash this year, I will give it one more try next year and see what comes of it.  And if it all comes to naught, I will not attempt for a third time.  I’ll just have to coerce a green-thumbed someone into sharing their harvest with us.  And that’s fine by me.

If you have been blessed with the wonderful ability to grow things well, be grateful and thank the Lord for such a gift because, truly, it is a gift.  How do I know this?  Because I don’t have it.  (And I also don’t have any garden-fresh produce either, so if you’re in the neighborhood . . . hint, hint.)   Just kidding, no seriously.  🙂

 

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