My illusion lies in the image that I am a qualified, even enthusiastic gardener. When the boys were younger, they were eager to figure out what we were going to plant and excited to tend to the process. That lasted a day and then the responsibility fell on me. I had mediocre success. I felt an obligation since Brian built these above ground gardens that would look strange not blooming with greenery. So now I am the obligated yet reluctant vegetable planter.
My method is zero planning. I basically choose some different items and then put them in the ground. If I am truly invested, I keep those plastic identifiers so that I know what the hell I planted. Most of the time I don’t in an effort to keep it interesting. When people ask what I have planted, I can respond, “What do you think it is?” and make it an entertaining game for visitors. Last summer a friend commented over the “gorgeous greenery growing in one of the garden beds” inquiring the name of it. I smiled and said, “those are weeds.” I can find pride in just about anything. Weeds are my success story.
Once things harvest, which can be tricky as my furry friends in the yard like to sample my vegetation, I get to enjoy the fruits of my laziness. Last year, I couldn’t garden as I was recovering from knee surgery, but the onions and the strawberries came back. It was like Mother Nature said, “you are a completely incompetent gardener, but I will at least let you feel like you know what the hell you are doing.”
This year I decided to commit. Maybe commit is too rooted (pun intended), let’s try the word attempt. Yes, I am attempting to at least be half-way competent. So, Brian helped me dump new potting soil in the beds. I planted sweet potatoes, zucchini, and tomatoes that are partnering with the existing strawberries, onions, and something else I have yet to identify. It is like a social experiment for me. Treating the garden like my children…..feeding, tending, along with nurturing and maybe a little screaming on the side. Those are my tricks of the trade before I lose interest. Maybe there is something to lazy gardening or at the very least it is a humorous way to entertain myself.