I do not have a green thumb. Through a
combination of ignorance, bad timing, and both over- and
under-watering, I have never had anything I would call a real harvest
from my garden, other than the Basil Plant that Will Not Die, Why
Won't the Sunflowers Go Away? and Where Did All This Catnip Come
From?
One year I decided to grow zucchini
the summer that everyone's zucchini failed (mine was no exception),
and the next year featured sweet peppers that never got larger than
my very small fists (though my peppers were slightly larger than my
friends'). I have catnip and sunflowers growing as gorgeous weeds,
but I killed my supposedly hardy mint plant. My father could grow
tomatoes on a west facing balcony in the most polluted part of
Tokyo, yet I can't get a tomato to bear a single fruit in a sunny
backyard. Don't even ask about my dismal strawberry harvest. Or the
potatoes, or the green beans...well, you get the picture.
Plants seem to thrive despite my
care—not because of it. I can't grow clover, but my “rescued”
rosebushes are thriving on neglect. The year I deliberately planted
sunflowers, none got taller than two feet. The next year I had a
rogue sunflower in my catnip bed that towered over me by a good foot
or so. This year I have “volunteer” sunflowers growing
everywhere, even in the cracks of the concrete patio.
With this less than stellar background,
you might not be surprised by my poor, pitiful pea harvest.
Between an unseasonably warm spring
and only planting ten or so seeds from a “expired” seed packet,
the fact that I got any peas was a blessing.
What surprised me was how delicious
they were! Juicy, sweet as sugar, melt in your mouth when raw.
I gobbled those suckers right up. And in a few months, I'll be
digging up the green beans and hoping I can sneak in another harvest
in the fall. South Dakota winters can start...mmm...anytime between
mid-September to late November, so we'll see.
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