Most mornings I drag myself outside to check on the garden beds before the heat of the day arrives and makes me a homebound worshipper of central air. (Fact: Just the mere mention of humidity makes me sweat in the small creases of my body better left unmentioned.)
I love my gardens right now because every time I visit there is some new surprise waiting to greet me. And if I’m being completely honest I’m loving it because there’s not a lot of actual work to do at the moment. The spring harvest is over and I’m sitting pretty in the eye of the gardening storm. In a few weeks I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in produce, but until then I can just relax and admire my plants.
Just a couple of months ago my tomatillo plants looked like wispy green threads. I was convinced these anorexic seedlings would never amount to anything and that my dreams of creating the world’s best green enchilada sauce would die unrealized.
Today they look like bushy trees, coming up to my chest with hundreds of yellow flowers waiting to produce fruit. This goes to prove, yet once again, that I really need to stop whining and have a little faith.
This morning when I ventured outdoors into the air condition-free yard, I saw wee, little tomatillos beginning to grow. (I also began sweating profusely, despite the fact it was only 7:12 a.m. Curse you overactive sweat glands.)
I raised these plants from itty-bitty seeds and seeing how they have grown and produced little tomatillo babies makes me prouder than any grandmother. I kept resisting the urge to pinch their little tomatillo cheeks and slip them hard candy when their parents weren’t looking.
This is what I love about gardening. You don’t need to spend piles of money, you don’t need a doctorate in science, and you don’t need unlimited free time for success. You just need some dirt, sunshine, water, and a little patience.
Although if the Powers That Be would like to give me piles of money I wouldn’t slam the door in their face.