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

Well, it’s been another long while since I’ve written, but fear not loyal readers, all three of you, I’ve not been neglectful. I’ve been BUSY. Like insanely busy. I’ve finally decided that the U.S. Census can march on without my help. I’ve hung up my badge and am determined to recover what is left of my sanity. There wasn’t much to begin with, so it should be an afternoon project at most.

Anyhoo, my garden has also marched on without me. Other than some watering, and a little weeding on my way to and from the car, most of it has been thriving quite well. I finally have some green peppers, which took quite a while to start producing. There are tons of jalapeños and banana peppers, neither of which I’m fond of, but jalapenos are useful for some homemade salsa. I’ve never been sure what banana peppers are useful for other than filling up lonely corners of pizza boxes.

F.L. improvised a trellis of sorts out of wire for his cucumber vine, which worked surprisingly well. I had no idea how cucumbers actually grew, so I left that project up to him. We’ve had a few tasty cucumbers so far, with a few more still budding on the vine.

Now, the tomatoes are by the far the stars of this little experiment. I have both cherry and regular ol' salad tomatoes (I don't remember what variety they were, imagine that). They have gone crazy. It's like a tomato-palooza around here. I can't keep up with them, and since there is only so many salads a person can eat in a day, I've had to be creative in coming up with uses for them. The next obvious use is salsa, which we have made tons of. (I've a few recipes I've tried and adapted that I will share in another blog.) The sit on my counters, taunting me. The ones still on the vine are even worse. One minute they are still small and green, duping me into believing I still have time before I need to pick them. I turn around to do something for a second, then turn back to find them plump and glowing red. It's kinda freaky. As my sanity is already in question, I don't find it amusing to have mischievous vegetables playing tricks on me.

Some of our plants haven’t fared so well, however. My attempt at onions was an epic fail. I had a lot of cilantro in the beginning, but wasn’t aware that I needed to cut them back to keep them from flowering. The seeds of the cilantro plant is actually coriander, another fact I was unaware of. I tried replanting some more, but it hasn’t done so well, so I will chalk that up to a lesson learned for next year. There are some things I have planted that have done well, but I’ve no idea what I really need them for, such as basil and lavender. So another lesson learned: only plant things I plan on using, or plan on learning to use. I probably needed to dry the basil and the lavender, and I’m sure there was something I needed to do with the coriander. Sadly, being gone so much, I left them to their own devices, like little green latch-key children, only with less junk food and video games. The results were only slightly less heartbreaking.

Then there are the mystery plants. These are plants that I have no clue what they are. And they are flourishing, blithely unaware of my cluelessness. I have one plant that has sprouted out of a coffee container that is almost as tall as me. It reaches proudly for the sky, right by the front steps. I try to avoid eye contact, as I’m afraid it will speak to me, and I won’t know what to call it. I honestly couldn’t begin to guess what it is, but it has miraculously survived my ignorance and indifference. There are many other such plants, maybe not as impressive, and not one looking vaguely edible. I refuse to get rid of them, as they fill out the porch nicely, giving the impression I know what I’m doing. I had started out with a list of what was planted where, but the garden got away from me, and I lost track. A month or so ago, we took down one of our mini blinds that had Ozzy had ripped up in his attempt to keep guard against the outside world. Instead of throwing it out, I stuck it in the closet. Next year I will cut up the slats and use them as labels for my plants, kind of a garden version of those “Hi, My Name Is _______________” name tags people wear at tedious work seminars.

So, I will say my first attempt at a vegetable garden is a success, in that I have grown a vegetable or two. I also see a lot of things I need to change or learn for next year. Meanwhile, I think I am going to search for some more tomato-based recipes, before they march right over the whole kitchen.


Until next time,


The Awkward Gardener

Sooo, I know it’s been a while since I’ve written anything. I’ve been trapped in U.S. Census hell, which is only marginally less torturous than listening to R. Kelly’s “Trapped in the Closet.” I’ve been working thirteen hour days, more or less, and most days the only attention I’ve been able to give the garden is while I’m either scurrying to or from the car. Fortunately, it’s been thriving quite well without me. I’m not sure how to take that.

Our first radish!

I’ve had some weird reactions to this garden, from raised eyebrows to gaping in disbelief to downright smirking and laughter. I’ve been told that the things we’ve planted such as green beans and tomatoes won’t grow in containers, that we don’t have enough space, that it simply won’t work. Well, I found it hard to respond as robustly as I wanted to with a mouth full of tasty green beans, so I let it go. I will say I’ve fretted just a tad over my salads, wondering if my green onions were happy growing in their little containers, if my spinach was suffering in the pallet box. Then I took another bite of my homegrown goodness and forgot about it. Yes, Virginia, there might not be a Santa Claus, but tomatoes can be grown in the city.

I would guesstimate at the moment we have roughly 100 tomatoes in our garden at various stages of growth(thanks to J's enthusiastic planting spree). This after we were told they need something like four times the space we’ve given them. The green beans just won’t quit producing. Some of our other experimental plants (such as J's single solitary cucumber in a pot with a vine a mile long) may not do so well, but the key word here is experimental. This whole garden was an experiment of whether or not I could actually grow a vegetable, so I’d call it a success! Wherever next year finds me, I won’t hesitate to start another container garden. My next endeavor is to collect seeds from everything so I won’t have to purchase seed packets next spring.

So without further ado, here’s some pictures of the progress of the garden:

The makings of a wonderful salad.











Some fast growing spinach that went into a delicious Spinach Artichoke Dip





Another box made from discarded wood from our old deck. It was supposed to be a raised garden bed, but we never got around to acquiring soil for it. We are using it as a "container corral" on one side and went ahead and planted some things in the ground on the other.




The very first budding tomato!










The same tomato, with about 30 little tomato friends on the same plant!






So you can build a container out of anything...this is a speaker box the guys next door gave us when they put a new, bigger, thump-thump-thumpier speaker in their trunk. J took the front off, drilled some holes, laid it on it's back, and VIOLA! It's now home to three thriving tomato plants and various herbs.







The original pallet box "before"







"After" Green beans, spinach, radishes, and onions abound.










I'm pleased with the results, despite all the ribbing I've gotten over it. I was actually chastised by someone for saying I "plucked" the green beans. Apparently around these parts, the correct word is "picked" and I was showing my "city-ness" which I'm guessing was distasteful. Whatever, they got off the plant and onto my plate, which is all I cared about. I don't care if they were levitated by a Martian laser beam. I think part of my stubbornness about this whole thing escalated when I saw the rather snooty, nay, SNOBBY, attitude by the country folks around here that narrow-mindedly think their way is the only way. Obviously, I'm not the first person that has ever grown a garden this way, but apparently I'm the first around here. A dubious distinction, I'm sure!

Til next time!



The Awkward Gardener

My garden is going green. No, not that kind of green, although I appreciate the optimistic thought. I’ve got things sprouting, but there’s still a fair bit of barren soil going on. I mean green as in good for the environment. That seems kind of an oxymoron, saying a garden is good for the planet, but if you honestly look at some gardens, they are anything but, what with all the wasteful spending and chemicals. Since today is Earth Day, I thought this would be a good time to share how we have gone green in our little patch of the planet.

When I started on the project of a container garden, I hadn’t really considered the cost all the way through. It’s much more expensive than just turning up a patch of ground and dropping some seeds. Planters and containers, my friends, are EEE-XSPEN-SIVE! For the naïve beginner like me, who started a small forest in her kitchen from seeds, buying enough planters to transplant my babies to would cost me hundreds of dollars. Add to that all the seeds I wanted to start directly outside, such as radishes and green beans, and I was quite dismayed. I drive around and see houses sporting these ginormous containers on their front porches, overflowing with flowers. Those containers can be upwards of $50 a pop and these places can have several going on. Add to that all the requisite “Welcome to our Garden” plaques, various garden gnomes, and fake mammalia in grazing poses, and they’ve spent a small fortune. And some people buy all new every season. I’ve picked up gardening magazines that honestly promote this spend-apolooza, which is discouraging. Now, there are people who can afford it, and that’s just fine, but I’m on a “gainfully unemployed college student” budget. Plus I can’t throw things away, just because they’re so last year. I have a little ceramic hedgehog that I got on sale a couple of years ago. He’s chipped and dented from Ozzy knocking him off the porch every other day, but he sits faithfully among my plants. I just can’t discard him for being homely. Ditto for my battered planters.

We are allowed to have white planters after labor day, aren’t we?

The answer came from the most unlikely source: a man. More specifically, my man. Yes, I was in the midst of a mini meltdown, fretting about planters and what not, when Fearless Leader interrupted to inform me that I had planters all around me. I swear he stopped just short of throwing in a “duh!” which is a good thing. I gave him a blank stare (worthy of a double “duh!”) so he continued to patiently explain that I had an assortment of plastic bottles and containers all over the kitchen. We’ve been trying to separate our recyclables, despite the fact that our town doesn’t collect them. We save our empty dog food bags and fill them with cans, glass, and plastics and take them down to the recycling place ourselves. He pulled out several Ocean Spray (trademark thingy here) bottles and milk jugs. I have to admit, it hadn’t really occurred to me I could use those things. I sometimes have problems looking outside the box. After a thorough search through the trash, recycle bags, cupboards, the neighbor’s trash (him, not me, they already think I’m nuts), and under the seats in our car, I had a small arsenal of planters. I now have radishes flourishing from cranberry juice bottles, peppers sprouting from plastic coffee containers and milk jugs. I really like the built in handles on the milk jugs; I cart them all over the porch just cuz I can.

My motley assortment of containers. Those are radishes flourishing in the cranberry juice bottles. The coffee containers are exceptionally sturdy and have green peppers currently budding. The only restriction with using plastic containers such as these is that they dry out a little faster than traditional planters, but I keep them where they get a little more shade than the plants call for, and give them smaller drinks throughout the day, rather than one large watering.


More bottle plants. The water bottles have green onions, and that large plant hanging on the left is F.L.'s beloved habanero plant. He broke the original pot it was in. We tried the milk jug, but it needs to stay very hydrated, and the milk jug wasn't deep enough, so it's since been retransplanted to an actual store bought pot. Sometimes you just have to do what's best for the child, er, plant.

But the story doesn’t end there. Nosireebob.

F.L. has really gotten into this gardening thing. I have to keep reminding him that this is my hobby, and that his role is supposed to be the long-suffering man who humors me with thinly veiled disinterest. He ain’t cooperating. On a trip to the local colossal-mart, he fell in love with a habanero pepper plant and adopted it. He has fawned over that thing like the fate of the world rests on its little green shoulders. Well, on that trip we came to the decision that we needed more space for all the things we wanted to plant. There simply isn’t enough room on our already crowded porch, so I brought up the idea of building a raised bed on the tiny strip of earth next to our front steps. They actually sell these plastic doo-hickeys that you assemble into a raised bed, a notion we immediately discarded. They are expensive as well, considering the “duh!” factor (I’m like the word “duh!” today). I’m not a fan of buying “ideas.” As we pondered the concept, trying to figure out the cost of wood, etc. to build our own, a light bulb came on over his head. It was blinding in its brilliance. He said, “all we need to do is find some wooden pallets.” I didn’t realize by that he meant drive around and nab a few unattended ones, but that’s what ended up happening. I hid under the dashboard and practiced my best “but, but, BUT Your Honor, it’s for the planet!” Just kidding. Seriously, though, I never realized how many discarded pallets there are just littering parking lots and empty land until then. It’s rather wasteful and decidedly environmentally unfriendly.

On a side note, F.L. is the Pallet King. He seems to think there is nothing that can’t be built out of pallets. There is a table in my kitchen right now that started life out as his desk. It is so rickety and uneven, it makes Appalachian rustic décor look downright Martha-esque. He went so far as to stain it (at least the parts he thought were important). It serves its purpose, and I will admit it’s growing on me with its distinct hobo charm. I guess that’s the whole looking out of the box thing I’m not so good at. Back to the topic of discussion.

The raised box thingy ended up being a more labor-intensive project than I imagined, since we were kind of making it up as we went. Basically, we started by removing the slats from one of the long sides, keeping the end ones on until last so the whole thing would stay stable. We used the slats we removed to build up the sides of the box, then removed the slats from the opposite side, and voila! We slapped it in on the ground, filled it with soil, and planted away. I’m happy to report onions and radishes are already sprouting. And I didn’t have to remove a bush of ornamental grass that was already there. I just positioned the box around it, so the landlord can’t complain that we undid his pathetic landscape work. When it’s time to move on, it can be removed or left behind without much trauma.

Here's the finished result of our pallet box. You can see the ornamental grass in the upper corner. I have onions planted along the back, and down the middle you can see radishes just starting to sprout. If you notice, there are a couple of gaps in the wood along the front due to the design of the pallets. We used some plastic to cover those up so soil wouldn't spill out.

If anyone wants to try this, one tip I must pass along is to pre-drill your holes. The pallet we got was rather well-worn, and the wood tended to split. The extra step of pre-drilling saved a lot of frustration and time. We had some old wood that we used to brace the corners and to connect the slats on the sides. There really is no right or wrong way to do it. As long as you come up with a vaguely box-shaped structure and have fun with it, you’ve accomplished your task.

It’s a good feeling when you can find little ways to make a difference in the world. Repurposing things saves the planet and the budget. I find myself seeing all kinds of things that can be used as planters. Actually, I see all kinds of things that can be used in alternative ways, like the dog food bags. They are large (at least for us), virtually puncture and moisture resistant, and retain their shape, so they’re ideal for handling recyclables. We’ve embraced the going green idea, and it’s had some healthy repercussions as well. But I’ll save that for next time.

Until then, happy gardening!


The Awkward Gardener

There’s a famous saying that goes “the family that plays together, stays together.” Maybe you’ve heard of it, or countless variations thereof. I tend to be a little cynical about such things, but every once in a while something happens that makes me believe. Or at least stop being so snarky for a second or two.

Gardening has always been a rather solitary hobby for me. My ex hated being outdoors when we lived in Florida, let alone actually doing any sort of activity there, besides sprinting from the front door to the car and back again, lest he melt or burst into flames. I usually found myself puttering among my weeds alone, while the family sat inside watching SpongeBob (yes, including the ex), my only company being the dog, who didn’t care for SpongeBob and spent his time undoing what I just did. I celebrated, cursed, sobbed, and kicked over watering cans in frustration by myself. The dog usually just lapped up the water and ignored me. Can’t say the same for the neighbors.

Completely random side note, I’m typing this on Microsoft Word and find it curious indeed that I got no funky “you spelled this wrong” line under SpongeBob. Does that mean it’s really in Word’s dictionary??? Do I need a trademark symbol thingy for SpongeBob, or Word? Thank goodness I didn’t say Mickey Mouse.

Anyhoo, back to gardening. I have learned a valuable lesson this past week. Actually two. The first might seem so obvious to you, I am imagining a collective slapping of foreheads, accompanied by a “D’OH!” Now, I feel I must mention again I grew up in Florida, and no matter how long I live here in Kentucky, I’m still taken by surprise by the weather. I think its denial. I don’t want to believe it will be cold, so I’m always shocked and dismayed when I go outside and turn into a popsicle. Well, we had some really gorgeous spring weather over the last couple of weeks. I’m talking “no jacket required.” I had felt comfortable with planting some things directly outside, such as radishes and green beans. The radishes in particular have been taking off, prompting me to do a happy dance every time I go outside.

Now, I’ve mentioned that Fearless Leader has been noting the progress of my Jiffy Pot nursery and whatnot. The day I did the bulk of my planting, he sat outside with me, offering a helping hand by drilling holes in planters and dragging my bag of soil around for me. We had his six-year-old son with us at the time, and he got involved too, planting some banana pepper seeds in a milk carton. It was rather strange to have company, but pleasant. I think I could get used to it, but I guess I can’t throw anymore hissy fits outside.

I think the attraction of gardening is that we are programmed with a desire to watch things grow. We love babies of all species, marvel as they grow, and then want to beat them with a bag of rocks when they reach adulthood. Or maybe just men. I dunno, but seeing as my kids are pretty much done growing, at least upwards, and Ozzy, my beagle puppy, turned a year not too long ago, I have nothing left to really nurture. I feel a sense of accomplishment when I look at my fledgling plants. Having someone that cares right along with me enhances that feeling.

Relationships are about as finicky as a seedling. If you don’t tend to it daily, it’s going to look like most of my Morning Glories do at the moment: sad and wimpy. Sometimes we tend to look at the big picture, which is usually a good thing, but can’t see the smaller things that matter, which is a bad thing. I think in the past I was so focused on end results, I never paid attention to all the little steps that would get me there. I’m talking about both gardening and relationships.

I got a little wake-up call a few mornings ago. F.L. had gone to his early morning algebra class, and being my day off, I slept in as late as I could muster. It was glorious, except for this very strange dream in which he poked his head into the bedroom, said in an ominous tone “well, all your plants are dead – it snowed,” and shut the door. The rest of the dream consisted of the front door opening and closing over and over again, which was very irritating. It finally stopped and I slumbered on in peace. When I finally woke up and stumbled downstairs in search of caffeine, I was greeted by a sight that stopped me dead. Every single one of my plants was sitting in the living room, crowded onto a piece of plywood. I gaped at it for a moment or two, yelled at Ozzy when he started lifting a leg by my green beans, and rushed over to the window. Sure enough, even though the sun was now shining, there were patches of snow still on the ground. My hero had taken the time before rushing off to class to bring my plants in, even though it might have been too late for most of them. If that doesn’t say love, I don’t know what does.

I had heard the weather man mention the word “snow” the night before, but in that stubborn state of denial I like to live in, I turned the channel immediately, disgusted at his filthy language. I figured he was in Cincinnati, about 50 miles away. In my mind, that was far enough to be in a separate climate zone. I hadn’t stopped to think about my plants outside, just in case the crazy weather person was right. Sad mistake for me, but I think my radishes survived, as they seem to be nice and green a few days later. My other fledglings hadn’t been so far along, and didn’t seem to fair as well. Of course, my Jiffy Pot darlings sit in sublime bliss by the window, undaunted by the goings on. Except for the Morning Glories, who have dwindled down to one healthy seedling. I think I need to plant it soon if it’s going to survive my best efforts of keeping it alive.

So, the lessons I have learned is to 1) never take the weather for granted when gardening, and 2) never take your significant other for granted, ever. I had assumed since I had taken on the trouble of starting a garden, it was my “problem” so to speak. I never expected F.L. to be bothered to care, because that was all I knew from previous experience. All relationships have their ups and downs, but I think the key to making them work is finding the things you can be passionate about together, and appreciating the little things that are done for you and that you can do for the other person.

Until next time, stay warm and happy gardening!


The Awkward Gardener

I am in a quandary today. I’ve embarked on this project rather haphazardly, which is usually how I embark on things, and as usual find myself scratching my head and hoping I don’t have fleas. With two dogs and a cat, it’s a distinct possibility…I’m kidding.

See, my method for planting in the past has been to browse for plants or seeds that appealed to me without much more than a cursory glance at their little “adoption tags” as I call them. You know, that little plastic doo-hickey that tells you such mundane information as how to actually care for the plant. I’d take them home, slap them in the ground or pots, say a little prayer-slash-eulogy, and hope for the best. As you can imagine, I’ve gotten some mixed results. My best effort was years ago, when I owned a house and felt confident enough to plant things right in the ground. I started with a mass planting of Sweet Allysum that actually flourished and become a semi-circular hedge for my flower garden. I was so proud of it. Every morning I’d look out the front window and swell with pride at my short, white wall. Then a well meaning friend who owned a lawn care business came over thinking he’d help out with my yard and mowed the little buggers down. It was horrific. I came out and saw cute, tiny white petals all over the yard, like a floral version of Normandy. I sat in my driveway and actually cried. Apparently he thought they were weeds or something

Now that I’m taking my gardening career a little more seriously, I decided I would try and go about it from a little more organized direction. I am doing everything from seeds this year, since I figured if I ended up botching the whole thing it would be a less expensive failure than usual. So, I was browsing through my local Colossal-and-Very-Cheap-Lots and stumbled across the seed packets. Before I knew it I had two fists full and was scurrying down the aisles trying to figure out what to put them in. That’s when I saw them: The Jiffy Pots.

Mysterious, complicated, magical, the Jiffy Pot is something I have resolutely refused to admit existed. I’m not exactly sure what my mental block with them is. I guess I’ve always felt it was an extra, unnecessary step for people that had to have predictable results. It’s like using measuring cups instead of eyeballing ingredients when you’re cooking. Where’s the adventure in that? Using the Jiffy Pot seemed a little too Martha-esque. Plus I had no idea how they worked.

For some reason, I stopped and perused them doubtfully. I zeroed in on one. It was a greenhouse kit. “Jiffy-7,” it said. “Professional Greenhouse.” I looked around me and cautiously picked it up. I was sure some kind of flower fairy was going to leap out and scream “a-ha, she’s touching it!” I read the directions and put it back down, moved on. Came back a few minutes later. This was a really long process that involved other parts of the store, but ultimately I bought it and took it home, despite the word “Professional” screaming at me in huge letters. I read the directions about ten times. I promise you that I’m not “slow” or “special.” I just really couldn’t believe it was as easy as the directions said.

So I decided to do an experiment. I planted some of my seeds directly outside. The rest I planted in the greenhouse. I filled it up with water, waited for the magic pellets to grow, fluffed and patted my seeds into the tops, then sat back to wait. It didn’t take long. Within a few days, I could see little green strands poking through. A few more days and I had definite plant-ness! I came downstairs the other morning in pre-caffeine zombie mode, saw an honest-to-goodness leaf and did a jig right there in my pj’s.

I started off with them on a table in my kitchen. Then I noticed everything that was sprouting was leaning heavily to one side. It took a minute to catch on they were looking for more sun. I moved them closer by putting them on my microwave right next to the window. They still leaned, grew, leaned some more, so I’ve taken to rotating them and chasing the sun from window to window around my place. It’s become a very carefully choreographed dance. They swish to and fro as I reposition them, kind of like their doing a super slow macarena. I guess when they start doing the “pop and lock” it’ll be time to plant them in their permanent home.

Now this is the part where my confusion takes off. I planted many different seeds: tomatoes, various peppers, herbs, a few Morning Glories, and well, I forget the rest. The directions say to put the greenhouse in a sunny window, prop the dome open when the first seedlings start to show, and when they’ve all sprouted, remove the dome. However, nothing is growing at the same rate! Almost everything said at least a couple of weeks for germination. A week later my Morning Glories and tomatoes are already hitting the dome, while none of the peppers are making an appearance of any kind.

It’s gotten to the point where Fearless Leader has taken an interest. He chides me for poking at the tomatoes, and announced this morning that the Morning Glories were ready to be planted. He scans my outside pots and shakes his head doubtfully. I’m not sure what to do here. The directions say I need to harden off the seedlings before planting them, but they aren’t all ready for that step. I supposed I could try to put the Morning Glories in another container during the day and set them on the porch.

Either way, I’m encouraged with the progress. I wish I’d tried this long ago. Maybe the seeds I planted outside are doing just fine and will flourish as well, but I like the instant gratification I’m getting from this greenhouse thing. It’s keeping me motivated. My next step is thinning out the seedlings. F.L. told me to leave them alone, lest I murder them with my unwieldy death claws. Well, if they survive that and I don’t mow the whole thing down to nothing, I’d say I’m well on my way to success.

Til next time, happy gardening!


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