The Awkward Gardener

Hello, all. It’s been quite a while since I’ve written. Unfortunately, I’ve been busy with the mundane things of life, such as school, work, fretting about alien invasions and if the world will indeed end in 2012. You know, normal stuff…

Anyhoo, winter has arrived. Winter is my nemesis, my bane, my reason for overeating and fat pants. I hate winter. As I thrive in the balm of summer, I thus wither in the bitterness of winter. To make things worse, it has snowed more this winter than I can remember in all my winters living outside of Florida. Wet snow, fluffy snow, hard snow - just snow, snow, snow! It’s enough to make one lose their appetite, well almost. No, not at all.

Unfortunately, a lot of what I’m eating is decidedly unhealthy. I’ve turned into a carb-ivore, devouring all things bready, doughy, pasta-y, or starchy. Crunchy or chewy, it doesn’t matter. Dipped in dips, smothered in cheese, hot or cold, I’m having a personal carb-apalooza. When I think back to how I was eating over the summer, it makes me want to weep. Or eat a bowl of chips.

It’s enough to make Dr. Atkins do spins in his coffin. He’d have enough room for that, being so trim and all, since apparently no carb passed his lips since, like 1952.

I certainly did try to keep up the healthy eating habits as the bright colors of summer faded to fall. However, after the last of our prolific tomatoes were eaten, I found it very hard to actually buy a store tomato. It felt unsavory, as if I was being unfaithful to my little garden. Vegetables lay forgotten in the bottom drawer of the fridge. The salads we were eating with every meal dwindled to nothing. It’s not quite the same pouring it out of a bag.

I came home one day to find all the trappings of our mosh-posh garden gone. Fearless Leader had taken everything down: withered plants pulled up, pots and buckets emptied of their soil, the raised garden built from our old deck wood dismantled. Our porch looked positively naked and exposed. It was unsettling. (It has since become a sort of haven for all the stray cats in the neighborhood who have taken unfair advantage of my need to nurture things.)

I think it’s no small coincidence that I began to feel lethargic and depressed. It’s not just that I was sad about not having my garden to tend to, but the change in diet that brought me down. It certainly reinforced in me the belief that we are meant to grow our own food, and be the champions of our own bodies by virtue of what we put in them. We have become too apathetic about what we eat. We mourn our lost waist- lines, and try to fix the problem by consuming questionable weight-loss shakes and “diet foods,” most of which resemble NASA experiments more than nutrition. More and more people are suffering from mental issues, but it’s a rare doctor or psychiatrist that will question diet before they hand over a happy pill (a definite misnomer, since none have ever made me “happy,” only less alarmingly morose or homicidal).

Even though last summer was just a small-scale experiment, and my first attempt at growing food, I can honestly say I can’t imagine NOT having a veggie garden from now on. I believe it’s more than having fresh vegetables ready at any time. I think the benefit also comes from the actual work of tending to your own food. Now, planting a few tomatoes in some buckets isn’t as physically benefiting as tilling the back 40, but it’s still an activity that gives me pleasure and satisfaction. We weren’t meant to hunt down our food in freezer cases, or pick our vegetables from rather smelly crates. I realize this isn’t a radically new concept, but it bears reiterating. I feel everyone should grow something edible, at least once. It helps you to stop taking food, and your own health, for granted. It gives you a sense of accomplishment, which does wonder for your self-esteem. It also tends to curb the urge to stab people with pointy things.

This is a definite worry after being snowed in for days at a time.

I’m already thinking about this summer’s garden. Unfortunately, it will be a little tricky since I will be moving to another town sometime after May due to transferring to a four year college to continue my education. Because of this, it will most likely be more of a true container garden, with very little put in ground, so I can take it all with me. I have no idea where I will be moving to, or how much outdoor space I will have, but I think having room for my garden will be a priority. And… stepping on the scale this morning has made it less of a novelty and more of a necessity. I’m itching to get started, especially after the few rare sunny and relatively warm days we’ve had here lately, breaking up the snowy monotony. I can’t wait to get out there, working in the sun, getting dirt under my nails. In the meantime I will have to content myself with garden planning, store bought salads, lots of bready treats, and stretchy pants.

Until spring, then…

Happy planning!


The Awkward Gardener

Welcome to my blog. I’ve never done a formal blog before, but I’ve dabbled in writing on some social sites and found some of my stuff well received, so I decided to branch out. I hope you will find this entertaining at the very least, informative in my wildest dreams. As you read on, you will start to understand the name of my blog, so I won’t spoil the surprise.

A little about me: I’m a thirty-something divorced mom. I’ve got two of the greatest kids on the planet who share their time between me (in Kentucky), and their dad (in Florida). The weird part about that is that I’m from Florida and he’s from Kentucky. Long story. Different blog. Someday. But I digress. I’ve had many jobs from secretary right out of high school, to most recently, EMT. The latter career was cut short by an unfortunate job-related injury. I fell off a seat in a moving ambulance, because I’m graceful like that, broke my shoulder blade (an impossible break, so the docs have told me) and was put kicking and screaming on the permanent DL of EMS. I found myself jobless, living in a teeny-tiny town in Kentucky right on the border of the Ohio River called Maysville, original hometown to the Clooney clan. As in George. Another long story, but the short of it is I moved here with my fiancé, or Fearless Leader as I will refer to him. I decided to go back to school and reinvent myself all over again. Third time is a charm, so I hear. I am currently chugging through my second semester on my way to ultimately a B.A. in English with an emphasis in writing.

Soooo, seeing that I don't have enough to do what with college and all, I have decided I needed a project. This project has slowly taken seed and bloomed in my brain (if you'll pardon the pun) until I had a voilá moment. I want to create a container garden. Now while that might seem a tad mundane, let me explain where the element of excitement and danger comes in: I can kill a fake plant.

Now that doesn't keep me from planting stuff. Nosiree-bob, every year I trek off to the garden center of my closest colossal-mart for a wide assortment of soon-to-be-dead plants. I obstinately ignore the foliage trembling as I pass. Like an emperor determining a gladiator’s fate, I slowly give my victims the proverbial thumbs down by placing them in my shopping cart of death. I've always been particularly fond of bulbs. Their magnificent rate of growth is exponential to the disappointment I feel when they don't flower. But I'm usually left with an impressive array of green stalks in various planters to show off....

Anyhoo, this year I was bitten a little harder by the gardening bug than usual. I decided to branch out from dead flowers to wilting vegetables. However, I'm determined to make this year different. By that I mean something will actually survive. If I can successfully grow a single, red, reasonably round-ish tomato, I will be beside myself.

Well, that brings me to my project. Being an apartment dweller (well, townhouse dweller) I have no land to speak of, so any gardening I do is limited to what containers I can squeeze onto my tiny porch, which brings its unique set of challenges. I've actually been doing some research, and more importantly, considering actually following the advice I’m finding. I'm feeling kinda good about this. So good, in fact, that I thought it would be cool to keep a blog diary about my progress.

Please don’t be mistaken. This will not be a Martha-esque litany of tips and tricks so amazing that you will feel ashamed you never thought of them before. This will be the trials and tribulations of me and my Black Thumb of Death. I've seen a lot of good sites and blogs, some that were way too advanced, some that were just plain awful. I want to write something from the perspective of a newbie, from all the mistakes and failures to the successes and breakthroughs. I want to gain a following of readers that will not just laugh at me (which trust me, you will) but to also teach me.

So here goes. Feel free to plod along with me. Invite your friends, acquaintances, enemies, dentist, and mother-in-law. Offer your two cents, or however much you can spare.

Happy planting!

The Awkward Gardener