Back in April I decided that it was way past time for me to plant a patch of vegetables here in my postage stamp sized, suburban yard. I missed having access to my own homegrown tomatoes. Now, I couldn't take away the immediate back yard because that is where my Babies play. And we need to keep all the space we can for them. I decided that the skinny little patch of grass know as our 'side yard' would be the perfect place. Even the dog wouldn't pee on it. (Foreshadowing? Anyone?)
We relocated the sod to a spot in the front yard that was suffering. I hated just to till it under. Then I packed up my small SUV and headed to Lowes. About 8 trips later, I had enough wood, organic humus and finely packed cow poo to get to work on my raised beds. Barring a few minor setbacks, like torrential rains on sod-less ground, which caused my dear children to lose their pants,
and end up knee high in mud,
all went well in the construction.
(My Beloved helped by taking photos. He's skeered of worms.)
We bought some seedlings from various local farm stores and greenhouses and we also started several vegetable varieties indoors from seed. (We were in the midst of a plant study here at Neverland Acadamy here, so it was a must.)
Plants took hold, seeds sprouted, and the tomato cages were placed just so. Then the beautiful, giant tomato plants bloomed. They were literally covered in them. Gorgeous, amazing, look-I-grew-this-myself-with-no-pesticide-or-chemicals blooms. I was proud as a peach. And then,
that was it.
The blooms just sat there, mocking me. I read everything that I could get my hands on. One garden guru said I should "flick the blooms" with my fingers to help them pollinate. One said I should shake them. I even tried soothing music and telling them reckless tales from my youth. Nothing worked.
Loads of blooms.
No maters.
I babied them, pruned them, feed them compost from my kitchen. Nothing. Nadda. Zilch.
Finally, I gave up. I declared myself a garden-variety failure. (Although we did enjoy many fresh herbs this summer and fall from my failing patch.) My brilliant idea to use the side yard had a fatal flaw. . .it was basically 10 feet of dirt surrounded on three sides by our house and fence. Too much shade.
I'm an idiot. The end.
So, just for spite, I ignored that wretched patch of yard for weeks.
Weeks and weeks.
You can imagine my surprise when my sweet children burst through the back door this past Saturday screaming,
"Mamma, Mamma! Look what we found in the garden!!"
What to my wondering eyes should appear, but tomatoes. Beautiful, perfect grape and roma tomatoes just the perfect scarlet shade for picking.
I fainted.
Then, I walked around to the side yard to find that the tomato plants that were now laying on the ground, full of weeds and completely un-cared for were full of tomatoes. And we found a lone carrot that had taken hold and made a snack of himself. And a pepper was almost ready to be picked. (We won't even talk about how the pepper plants acted all summer.) It was a Thanksgiving miracle.
Tomatoes in November?
Really?
When they were planted in April?
So as of today, we have paid roughly $23.57 for these grape tomatoes.
Each.
Makes the prices at Whole Foods seem downright economical.
I think I'll plant me some pumpkins next year. I hear they are fun to hide at Easter.
Paula
"Second to the right, and straight on till morning."
