The Gardening Blues

Sometimes I get discouraged at how slow a process it is to convert one's backyard into a discreet, edible paradise.  Gardening is hard work in the hot Alabama sun, and on occasion, I feel a little miffed that the land isn't reciprocating by giving back bushels of homegrown deliciousness.  I mean, really, where is the give and take in this relationship?  It is a moment of weakness, I know, to assume that one can go from boxwoods and crapemyrtles and chicks to kale and bell peppers and fresh eggs in one summer.  It must be my microwave mentality or my strong belief that hard work equates results.  Mentioning the above to my well-grounded husband after a labor-filled weekend got me an eye roll and a lecture about how "these things take time."  Blah blah blah.  Where are those stinkin' watermelons?

Now that I've had a shower, some mindless television, and a good night's sleep, I find myself being drawn back to that fall seed catalog and an obsession to weed my garden.  I can't help myself.  There is just such potential out there.  No education was ever free, and I'll be darned if I ever buy a squash again.

Just for the sake of perspective and personal morale, let's tally this summer's backyard farming wins:

• 20+ ornamental plants removed
• A 10' X 20' garden installed (with retaining wall)
• 10 cubic yards of topsoil delivered and spread
• Spring and summer garden planted
• Herb and strawberry bed created
• 6 Blueberry bushes, 3 raspberries, 3 blackberries, and 2 grapevines planted
• The addition of three trees - peach, apple, and pear
• Chicken coop built
• 4 pet chickens hatched and delivered
• A seriously envious summer tan

No one learns a new skill overnight, or in one summer.  Perfectionists and hard workers, take heart.  Plant a seed.  Sweat over it for good measure.  If a rabbit eats it or it gets hornworms, it was nothing if not an education.  You'll know better next time, and next time you'll have tomatoes.

Or, just try microwaving it.