I had the best of intentions for my backyard garden. I really did. I had planned to grow deliciously sweet, red, juicy tomatoes and crunchy green peppers along with an assortment of herbs and a scattering of summertime, butterfly-attracting flowers to boot.
With the exception of a few precious cherry tomatoes and some herbs that have somehow survived in spite of my poor gardening skills, I would have to chalk this experiment up as a complete and utter failure. I have yet to produce any full-sized tomatoes that haven’t been ravaged by caterpillars, and the flower garden never really took hold. I have no idea what happened.
Could it be that I failed to fertilize every two weeks as planned or that I didn’t water my plants regularly? Perhaps. Although the tomato and pepper plants appear hearty enough, they bear little to no fruit. Or vegetables, for that matter.
Perhaps I should have gone out and talked to them more. Given them some encouragement. There have been studies, after all.
When I started my garden, I was enthusiastic. But my enthusiasm waned with the increasing oppressive summer heat. I just didn’t feel like going out into the hot, muggy weather to deal with it all. That and never actually getting around to doing any weeding.
Now my backyard garden is a jumbled mass of non-fruit-bearing tomato and pepper plants, various herbs, and weeds. Lots of weeds. To add insult to injury, there aren’t even any flowers except for the small patch of violets at the base of the tree which were already there before I started this whole venture. I can hardly take credit for them.
Even the small Douglas Fir tree I started from a seed has withered and died, for Pete’s sake.
When it comes to plants, I am the Kiss of Death. I have a Black Thumb. I tried – admittedly probably not hard enough – and I failed.
I guess gardening just isn’t in my soul.