I am an amateur. Not in that neat, nostalgic, Bobby Jones kind of way. Well, a little of that, but mostly the kind that you look at, shake your head, and then walk on. Not the kind you ask to tell you what they know. You would never do that to my kind of amateur because I can tell you all I know about some things and you may ask yourself why you wasted 30 seconds.
I know a little about gardening. I had a garden that I planted with my family when I was growing up. I learned a lot. We grew a lot of things. I loved doing it. I even come from farming stock. My granddad and granny could grow anything. So, could my other grandparents. My parents grow some great things. I even married into more farming stock when I got hitched to Mel. Both sides of her family form long ancestral lines that are attatched to the land. Then comes me. With all of this, I should be a great gardener, right?
Mel and I have started gardening. Like I said, it is in our blood. Last year, we built one raised bed and we did okay. This year, we built two more and have done well with everything we have planted except our zucchini, squash, and corn. We had no power over the zucchini and squash. The bees let us down. It is really just that simple They are slacking or maybe its the economy. Who knows? I just know they didn't do their job of pollination and that I won't be eating homegrown squash casserole anytime soon. I've moved on. We'll try harder next year. Mel is even looking into getting our very own bee box. We may even plow the whole bottom yard next year, but who can tell. I can't.
The corn is a different story. I tried to grow some last year. It was too sad even to really mention. I grew the saddest excuse for a corn crop and vowed to do much better. I would just grow myself a good corn crop the next year. I researched corn. I bought the right seeds. I mixed the soil. I was going to get a good crop. I planted the seeds. I watered them. I kept track of how long they'd been growing. Then my little corn crib house started to fall apart.
They peaked at about three feet tall. They began to tassle. (Picture 2 for the other novices here besides me.) They formed several cobs. I moved them, so they could get more sun. I watered them more. I tried Miracle Grow. They just kept producing more cobs, but not getting taller or bigger. So yesterday, I was checking the garden and decided I was done with them. I was moving on. I picked the corn. I got six cobs. What a scam. I schucked the first cob and discovered one of the saddest cobs I have ever seen. (Picture 4) It was a disgrace. The saddest part is that it is about an inch larger than last years. All I could do to save face was give the cobs to our chickens. They loved them, but they eat worms and rotten apples. They don't care. Their palets don't demand the best. They don't check how many stars a restaurant has.
So, here I am. An amatuer of gardening. And remember not the neat, nostolgic type that does it for the love of the subject. Just the kind that you shake your head at and suggest that he try something else and tell him that his gift package will be much better suited for....
Trying to get a green thumb,
David
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