Mary Mary Quite Contrary…..

My garden is 67% planted!  Yeah!  I ended up with six half barrels of my magic soil mix…. that includes some empty 2L bottles that I placed in the bottom of the barrels to take up space.  It’s sort of like the bricks in the toilet tank… remember that, anyone? 

I bought one plant, a cherry tomato, and Nora helped me plant it yesterday after the rains came down and the floods came up.  But not a seed found its cozy bed until today… when sunny skies returned to Arizona, and winter is now over.  My rainy day yesterday was spent indoors pouring over gardening books to figure out which plants need full sun, which plant grows with which companion plant, how many seeds to sow in each barrel for each type of plant, etc. etc. etc.  Of course, I drew a plan.  You gotta have a plan!  If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.  If you aim at nothing, you’ll hit it every time! (Sorry for all the clichés….. I’m a tad on the tired side.)

And the planting began…. green onions, bell peppers, carrots, spinach, cilantro…..

Yes, those green onion seeds are teeny and hard to plant.  But not NEARLY as hard as the carrot seeds!  I could barely see them, let alone try to pick up two at a time for each of the 96 little holes destined to cultivate Peter Rabbit’s favorite veggie!  Those carrots will NOT be coming up in perfect rows like Mr. McGregor’s garden.  I may have even missed an entire row…… anywho…. the proof will be in the pudding in about two weeks, when they come up and I see what really happened.

The reason I’m only at 67% is because I forgot to soak the peas and zucchini seeds before planting.  They will go in tomorrow with the beans.  More pictures to follow as the joyfulness in my heart grows with each little sprig of green that pushes up through the earth.

Garden Pests

There’s just something about growing food in my own backyard that creates in me a bond with my pioneering ancestors.  Just me and the dirt, a seed and God.  I feel organic, like I’m doing my part.  Ok, this is a stretch because I only have two fruit bearing species:  the never-yet-produced-anything strawberry plant that has healthy leaves… no berries, and the sickly-spindly-shriveled-leaf cherry tomato plant.  I have eaten every tomato that has come off of that pathetic plant…. with the exception of two.  One I lovingly shared with my husband, the other was a victim of a garden pest drive-by shooting.  Literally.

I had coaxed my thin waif of a plant through two ferocious wind storms that left the leaves mangled and brown.  Still I watered, talked sweetly and fertilized the cherry tomato hopeful.  Imagine my rush of pride when the first yellow blossom appeared, promising fruit.  I faithfully watered, sweet talked and protected the plant from the wind.  Eventually the little beauty appeared and grew to the size of the end of my thumb.  Daily I checked on it and watched the dark green turn pale, then yellow, orange and finally a scrumptious red.  I decided one day that the next day I would be savoring the sweet goodness.

D-Day.  I awoke feeling carefree and safe, not knowing that I had been victimized.  When I was at the kitchen sink that morning, I glanced out and the sight shocked me.  I could see the little tomato hanging on to the vine with it’s last bit of strength.  It was mutilated, I thought by birds, but I could see white dots that I assumed were insects.  Upon closer inspection, the white dots were indeed pellets from a youngster’s gun.  This was my first leaning toward gun control.  I could see how the bright red tomato was a tempting target, but for goodness sake, it was my FIRST one!  I returned to the kitchen and asked loudly, “Who shot my tomato?”  Laughter erupted.  Stern words were flung.  That was the last cherry tomato to die from gun wounds on our back patio.  Sheesh.