“Mom, next year, don’t plant pumpkins.” My 11-year-old, fresh from fifth grade,
is now dispensing gardening advice to me, his mother, the horticulturist. I should instruct him on respecting his
elders, but he’s right. The
pumpkins were a mistake. They made
the 2012 bloopers reel:
The Plague of
Pumpkins. “What fun it would
be to carve home-grown jack-o-lanterns this October! And think of the savings!” These were the thoughts that led me to pick up two adorable
little pumpkin starts this spring.
The info tag failed to mention that those two small plants would cover
an area roughly the size of a city block with their prickly, rambling growth.
 |
| Before the takeover....note the unsuspecting onion to the right |
Ten minutes (so it seemed) after I planted them, the vines
swamped our bonfire pit. Somewhere,
floating fathoms below are the makings of a terrific wienie roast. They violated the hallowed ground of my
tomato harvest with their thistly vines and prickled up my picking. They steam-rolled the Candy onions, burying
their lush, green tops in a jungle of bristles.
All of this would be a consideration if there were pumpkins growing on these vines. If. The flowers failed to pollinate. There hasn’t been one love connection between Mister and Miss Pumpkin flower. I could play matchmaker, but who wants to wade into knee-deep thistle-vines?
 |
| Who needs smores when you've got pumpkin blossoms? |
Cursed pumpkins.
You are worth whatever I have to pay in October. I will not be growing you again. Until, of course, the gardening amnesia
sets in…
Big on Taste, Short
on Supply. I have slowly been
wooed by basil. It began several
years ago, with a bite of Amy’s Pesto Pizza. One taste, and I made a pact with myself to look at neither
the serving size, nor the fat content listed on the box. Then, with a clear conscience, I ate
the whole thing by myself.
This spring, I tried Panera’s Mediterranean Egg White on
Ciabatta, a refined culinary description for what amounts to an herbal
hallucinogen. The pesto slathered
on that sandwich MADE me plant basil.
One minute I was brunching with a friend, and the next thing I knew, I
was sitting in my garden, a trowel in one hand and basil in the other.
But the final straw was The $64 Tomato, by William
Alexander. Funniest gardening book
I have EVER read, by the way. Last
week, I made his Caprese Salad. This
delightful combination of basil, garlic, pasta, tomato and mozzarella took a
chunk out of my basil supply. That
was an herb well spent, but I need to plant more, much more. Or steal some. I could be on the road to a life of
crime.
 |
| Leafy deliciousness |
Failure to Plan is
Planning to Fail. The month of
May brought with it a newly expanded vegetable garden for yours truly. With all that square footage of
potential yawning before me, what did I do? Planted my tomatoes too close together. Without fail, I always underestimate the
size of a mature tomato plant. It
must be some sort of neurological disorder. Had I three rolling acres of vegetable beds, there’s no
doubt the tomatoes would still end up too close together. This year’s crop of six plants has morphed
into one giant tomato hut, similar to the darling green bean/sunflower tents you
may have seen in children’s gardens.
Only this structure, having no discernable entrance, requires a thirty-something
woman to belly crawl inside to harvest her out-of-reach Romas. Enchanting.
 |
| Buried Treasure |
Assuming procrastination doesn’t get the better of me (and
let’s face it, that’s a stretch), I’ll be working out a pre-emptive strike on
the 2013 garden plan while the mistakes of 2012 are still fresh in my
mind. My goal: no reruns in next year's blooper reel.
3 comments:
Growing pumpkins requires buying extra land, which makes the cheap little seed packet a complete scam. I have wimpy basil this year because it's planted with my parsley and they don't like each other. One wants moisture while the other is praying for drought. Oops! As a previous owner of a tomato hut, I agree they're overrated!
But I love the way pumpkin vines just run amok and cover everything! They are like some alien plant invasion, very exciting. Mine start in the vegie garden but grow all over the lawn. Actual pumpkins are a bonus. I do agree, though, that you can't grow too much basil. And my tomatoes are always too close together too, no matter how much I try to spread them out.
I've seen tomatoes grown in a tidy manner. I know it must be possible. But it just isn't in God's plan for me, or either of you, apparently. Glad we're on this garden path together!
My pumpkins did finally set fruit. I found 2 developing along the vine. The next day, the vine was wilting. So there you go: it was just not meant to happen. Grrrrr.
Post a Comment