The First Strawberries (and Other Growing Stuff)

Until now, everything that I ever tried to grow died miserably. Various potted plants I’ve tried out over the years, after the memories of previous attempts were dulled enough for me to willingly do it again.* A huge, gorgeous bromeliad—supposedly quite hardy—from my mother’s funeral. (Imagine, please, the guilt of killing off that one.) A basil plant tended in absolute desperation and hope; I probably spent more time on it than most children spend on their pets. I spoke to it daily as I watered it, I petted it gently, I think I even named it.** Either it got eaten by a bird or it died just to get away from my ministrations.

These were our plants a month ago. The squash have
pretty much taken over the yard now.

I think I also killed a cactus once (who knew you could give a cactus too much water?).

But now here we are, with a garden full of delightful stuff that is, for the most part, still alive. Yes, I accidentally killed a cucumber plant, and bunnies took care of a couple of the squash, and the peppers my husband planted are mysteriously doing better than mine. But on the whole, the garden does not look like a terrible case of plant bubonic plague has recently broken out.

I watched in daily anticipation as our strawberries began to ripen. When I saw our first strawberry ready to eat, I plucked it gleefully and rinsed it off just once—giddy that I didn’t have to scrub away the pesticides like on store-bought strawberries. I cut it into three pieces, barely nibbles, and the three of us with reasonably full sets of teeth each took part in the first harvest of the season.

The next strawberry I ate absolutely redefined for me what a strawberry should taste like—the utter sweetness of Strawberry, like a perfect summer day. It felt like Plato stepping out of the cave. Brice called it an “ambrosia berry.”

I am impatient to harvest it all. Today we finally could no longer resist the urge to check on the carrots. (No, they’re not quite ready yet.)

We have eaten our broccoli in several dishes now, and it felt just a little surreal to recognize that this broccoli tasted like, well, broccoli, that stuff you buy at the store. I realize that this should not be astonishing, but somehow it is. It’s like being told that Twinkies are actually based on things like wheat and sugar cane and such. It’s somehow hard to swallow (although I will admit, I have never had a particularly hard time swallowing Twinkies).

I am also witnessing firsthand that joke about zucchinis and neighbors. I find myself wanting to make more friends just so we have people to give our squash to (although I’m also making more curry too).

I have never done this before, so each new discovery is amazing. Did you know that cucumber plants produce beautiful yellow starlike flowers? And those little helicopters will actually grow into little trees if left unweeded? And lots of flowers need to go through the mysterious process known as deadheading if you want them to keep blooming? (Thanks for that one, Dawn.) In truth, the simple fact that flowers will continue to bloom if you take care of them rather than just dying off is news to me.

We have columbine! Columbine, the flower I have yearned to grow since the dawn of time. There is something about it—the delicate, bizarre shape; the combinations of color; its wildness. And now here it is, in my very own yard.

And have you ever seen a miniature snapdragon? Snapdragons the size of my pinky fingernail. And so many other flowers growing and waiting to bloom. I eagerly anticipate each new bud, awaiting the surprise of discovery when it unfolds. I am so thrilled when something blooms that I must grab Brice by the sleeve: “Come here quick, see what I found!”

I am learning all sorts of things, and I hope next year’s garden will be even better. But for now, going out into a garden, picking a cherry tomato, and watching Coriel eat it—that’s a pretty amazing start.***

 

*Strangely like childbirth

**I wish I were kidding, but I am not. To the depths of my soul I wanted that basil to grow. I tried to convince it to thrive, offering pep talks and encouragement. Which just goes to show you that I was never meant to be a cheerleader or a motivational speaker.

***In case you were wondering, our planting ambitions were perhaps a bit overzealous this year, but overall they’re going fairly well. Yellow and green squash, cucumbers, cantaloupe and watermelon (neither of which are looking like they’re doing well), red and green bell peppers, orange mini bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, carrots, lettuce, broccoli, strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. Oh, and sort of potatoes. A list that is quite a mouthful. And I hope it will provide many more mouthfuls in the future months. (Har har har.)