Garden Weasel


Last year I bought tiny tomato plants, petite peppers and potential potatoes. I dug little holes and raked dirt around.

It was so much more fulfilling then watching my one tomato plant wither and die on my porch. Even hearty tomato plants were not hearty enough for a Dallas summer. I really wanted somewhere to really plant things. Things I could eat and bring to work like everyone else did. Pretending they were tired of all these tomatoes and peppers and carrots. Tired my ass. Show offs.

“Look what a good farmer I am. Look at what good dirt I have cultivated and what big strong healthy plants grow in it” “how about some nice homemade Tomato Basil soup, would you like some pesto sauce? Or some salsa? Care for an eggplant? Or some carrots? Would you care for some peach cobbler or an apple pie? All from my garden.” All the while blue birds land on her hands and butterflies weave honeysuckle in her hair. Nature Whore.

Shut Up Lady Bountiful. You have bird shit on your hands and weeds in your hair. You smell like compost and you entertain homicidal thoughts about bunny rabbits. Bunny Bigot.

All this time I was Lady Dribble. My two tomato plants produced, all season – four sad undersized tomatoes. The “whole season” lasting only a few weeks until they took turns playing the lead in an All Tomatoe production of Camille while I was at work.

I was beside myself and I don’t even like tomatoes. My flowering plants didn’t even make it as long as the doomed tomatoes. Third floor walk-ups in the middle of the valley of the shadow of death. are not really conductive to plant growth. It didn’t add to the situation that it was the second of two history making hot summers.

I wanted plants! Everyone else had plants. Even at my apartments there were people with their own potted jungles. I couldn’t make allegedly hearty plants live and they were stops on Garden Tours.

Then I moved.

I moved here in the spring. Everything had flowers! Plants I didn’t know flowered looked like cotton candy. I took walks at my new apartment and walked though honeysuckle and bunny rabbits. One day I was startled by a herd of deer. In the city, behind my apartment! It was so much cooler and nicer and everything smelled nice. Here, I could make things live!

Not on the porch of a second floor walk up.

This was a surprise. But. There was a garden in my future. A real garden. In the ground.

These plants did better. I couldn’t be there to watch them like I wanted or water them as compulsively as I thought they should be. It rains here a lot. But not enough.

It took longer for them to wither but they withered. My carrots were dwarf – y and not at all like the tall leggy grocery store Super Model carrots. My potato plants produced a handful of stunted potatoes. The ground was too hard. Sigh.

And then I moved again. My own yard to garden in! The dog and the winter turned it into a mud flat and then a muddy mess. The dog likes plants. A . Lot. As chew toys. So no garden for me. I turned to the front yard.

My little farmer heart was filled with farmer joy. More like flower farmer joy, but. Still. My yard is pretty. Not at all edible. Sigh. But pretty. Good enough.

Not really. I want vegetables! I don’t even like vegetables. I don’t even eat vegetables. I want to grow vegetables damn it.

This year I am too poor to do the whole garden thing. This year I Had only the suspension pf my truck to give, and the transmission And possibly the breaks.

I heard the phrase that all truck owners fear “what are you doing This weekend? Can we borrow your truck?” Duh, Duh
Duh.

The city I live in has makes it’s own municipal dirt. Good dirt. If Old Jeb had missed that possom and hit this black gold he wouldn’t have moved to Beverly Hills, he would have set up shop Where he was and not bothered with cement ponds and Movie Stars. This stuff is heroin for plants. He could have marketed this stuff to movie stars. It is amazing.

And all you have to do is go get it.

A bucket is not just a bucket is not just a bucket. And all truck suspensions are not created equally. After the front-end loader dumped its “bucket” into the back of my truck the front wheels didn’t touch the ground. The back wheels all but flattened out and the bed almost touched the ground. After we borrowed a shovel and limped to a gas station to air up the tires we were on our way. This year their garden is going to make Libby’s jealous.

I am growing a potato plant in the good dirt in a plastic garbage bin on my patio. I may grow carrots ( boy howdy am I going to grow carrots! I had to go to three different nurseries till I found someone with carrots. It is a little late to plant carrots so he gave me a whole flat for free . I’m also going to grow garlic). I feel all farmer. Finally.

I could be Lady Bountiful my own self-but with out the bird shit and the bunny bigotry.

If anyone has any knowledge about container gardening vegetables, I would appreciate it if you would let me know. I’ll print the tips.