In gardens, beauty is a by-product. The main business is sex and death.
This year at Casa de Cooker the gardens have been more of the later and very little of the former.
When I started Cooker and a Looker I had intentions of sharing photos and information about some of the species we’ve planted on the farm, timely posts about what veggies to plant when and a little secret Laurel taught me to get the best flowers from your Phalaenopsis orchids. Lately, I’ve been wondering if gardening has any place on this blog at all.
The blog was in its infancy when I wrote a pretty detailed post for Stacey at The Veggie Mama about organic pest control to help her out after the birth of her veggie baby.
Since then, things have gone downhill. The veggie patch is in danger of being overrun by the chrysanthemums that the girls gave me for Mother’s Day last year. Very few of the heritage seeds that I planted actually germinated, and not many of the plants that made it to seedlings survived being planted out into the garden. The corn was accidentally killed by spray drift from Bearhand’s beloved roundup.
This summer was the driest period we’ve ever experienced on the farm. I managed to nurse some of the heirloom tomato and eggplant plants (eggplant plants? that can’t be right) through by occasionally waving some water in their direction. Then in late January, the heavens opened and it didn’t stop raining for months. Most of the tomatoes split and spoiled, but not before I managed to turn some into some delicious tomato paste.
Now against all odds, the eggplants are fruiting – gorgeous little Slim Jims, beautifully mottled Rosa Biancas and Listada de Gandia and Violetta di Firenze that are almost too beautiful to eat.
I get so much satisfaction from picking this handsome harvest from my little garden. Growing veggies make me feel undeservedly proud. I didn’t breed these plants or cleverly cross pollinate them to make new varieties, my family would starve if we relied solely on my efforts, I didn’t even harvest the seeds. They’re simply the ones I managed not to kill, but they make me grin like a loon.
So, the gardening page will stay for the moment. Not because I’m good at it, but because I love it.