My garden is out of control. I disobeyed seed recommendations in all regards. I planted too early, spaced insufficiently, and failed to thin. My peas look like an invasive species about to strangle the town. I lost ten pounds eating only vegetables from the garden so I could fit down the crowded rows to pick the vegetables. They are hiding monsters waiting to attack.
Vegetables grew from the compost. Tomatoes, pumpkins, I think, a squash. I let many stay. “Poop veggies.” They are from the compost. Someone told me once when life gives you crap you’ve got to turn it into something good. This is proof that I can. I wonder how tomatoes that have traveled through the digestive track exiting through the rectal cavity of an animal will taste when compared to the ones that came from Al’s Greenhouse or the seed packets.
Oh…do you want some tomatoes? They’re almost ready.
I brought some kale to a friend across town. I gave a box of salad greens to my mom, but before long, this garden will be barfing so much produce a small vegetarian nation won’t be able to keep up. That’s exactly what I want. It’s my little corner of obsessiveness.
Some of the reason for this obsession is because I really like to eat well. A small part is because I’m insane. Clinically. No one can eat this much stuff. The garden’s huge. I didn’t even think I’d be able to fill up this garden, but it’s full and I need more space. Next year, I’ll bust it out another ten feet while no one’s looking. Don’t tell my husband. This place will be a farm before he knows it. He might be suspicious if he sees a goat mowing his lawn in something other than the perfect rows he prefers.
“No, those aren’t goats and chickens. That’s wildlife from the reservoir. I can’t remove them because they’re endangered.”
Actually, I don’t think I want goats and chickens. I want to be the zucchini phantom–the person who leaves extra produce on your doorstep or on the front seat of your car and says, “Hey, want some (insert seasonal veggie taking over the world here).” That’s my goal. I want to be my own CSA. I want to make you eat so many vegetables you hate the entire food group for life. I might even put some recipes together for you.
I’ve been eating greens for a solid month now. Curried, brazed, creamed, fresh…a million ways. Sadly, the spinach is about gone–I’ll have to curry something else. There’s still plenty of kale and Swiss chard–the greens that send children running for the hills. I see the tomatoes and peppers coming out of hiding, and my zucchini is peeking out of the blossoms. The ten or so rows of corn aren’t ready yet, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be eating more beets than a Russian hiding from Stalin at the dacha. And yet again, I’m not sure why I planted radishes, because I don’t eat them. They’ve gone to seed. I think I plant them because they come up first. Sometimes the fastest isn’t the most useful, just like in life. Yet we still gravitate toward them anyway…Just because we hate to see empty space and we assume that things that get done quickly must have something to offer.
This garden is getting ready to bust at the seams. If you’re not a food-freak veggie loving left-wing weirdo, now would be a great time to hide from me.
I’m getting the produce baskets ready, and there just might be one…for you.
I’m jealous. I tried to grow a garden. All it produced was one anemic cantaloupe that flowered but didn’t fruit, and a sunflower with no flower. Also weeds and cockroaches.