I love to cook.
Mostly, because I love to eat.
I am a vegetarian.
I love fresh vegetables.
I care about the earth and stuff.
I like projects and learning new things and doing things for myself.
Given all these facts, growing my own food seemed like a logical next step in the process of life.
I wanted to be "that girl" that showed up to work on a random Tuesday with a basket full of stuff from my own garden.
I wanted to be able to cook a meal and say, "Oh! I need a tomato! I'll just run outside and pick one off the vine!"
I wanted to have a list of my favorite herbs in constant supply in my backyard.
I wanted to be an eco-conscious, food-conscious, forward-thinking, sustainable-living, 20-something with a grand garden of goodies.
Alas, sometimes the things we want to be are not who we are. This is a hard lesson to learn in life...
Two summers ago, I planted six plants outside. Tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, peppers and jalapenos. I made the mistake of planting them out of reach of the hose, so water (filling up a water can like...12 times back and forth) was a giant chore. And thus...watering probably did not happen as often as it should. I made the mistake of planting those plants on the sun bleached, Sahara-in-the-summer, side of the garage too. They never had a chance. Sorry dudes. I killed you.
Last summer, I decided to a) plant my plants within reach of the hose and b) Start a little smaller. I was even super fancy and made my own "upside down hanger" for my tomato plant. I thought this garden was destined for greatness. I thought I'd be eating homemade, homegrown Salsa all summer long. What happened to those plants? Oh yeah. They died. Which is a nice way of saying "I killed them."
After the deaths of my plants last summer, I learned that I should never be allowed to farm. Maybe one day, when I'm old and have more time on my hands...I can be a farmer. Maybe farming and growing a garden is something that's meant for a later stage in my life. When me and my chocolate lab named Bear can trapse through our garden and care for plants properly. Maybe Bear with munch tomatoes off the vine when I'm not looking. Maybe I am doomed to have a Black Thumb of Death forver. Who's to really say?
Five months after I buried my dead plants, it was my birthday. My family gave me a Chia pet herb garden as a gift. I think it was probably a desperate attempt to save plants everywhere from my Black Thumb of Death. "Dear God, let's just get her a Chia pet herb garden. Maybe then she won't feel the need to murder any innocent cucumber plants this summer. And I also really don't want a dead, upside down tomato plant in my yard this year. People are going to think Satanists."
So.
I got this herb garden.
As I tend to do, I got a little over excited.
I unwrapped my Chia Pet Herb garden on January First.
And planted them like...a hour later.
Chris was like, "Oh. You're planting them already, huh?"
And I was like, "Heck yes I am!"
I proudly put them on the window sill in the kitchen, where I was sure they would soak up all of that rich, nutritious (read:non existent) January sunlight. I even put ziplock bags over them to a get a Terrarium effect and help the little guys grow considering it was January and I put them on a WINDOWSILL.
By the way...in case you were wondering, I am a genius.
Can you guess what happened?
It's not like they didn't grow. They DID grow. And I DID water them faithfully (it's really easy to remember to water when the plants are staring you in the face everytime you're at the sink).
And for a second I thought to myself, "Maybe I DON'T have a Black Thumb of Death. Maybe one day I'll have a compost pile of my very own. Maybe this year is the year to do it!!! Maybe I SHOULD try again this summer and plant some vegetables!!"
And then...
Well.
And then...they just...stopped growing.
I don't know what happened.
They just, well...they've looked like this since mid-February:
Scraggly. Brown. Going nowhere.
Just like my career as an organic farmer.
