Can I just give a little shout out to the weekend? We had such a good Father’s Day. We got lucky and John got on early flight home, surprising me on Friday night. I was so happy to see him. As Honest Toddler (possibly the best new blog in the world) would say, by about 3 p.m. on Friday afternoon I was comatose and about to hand Evie the iPhone and just tell her to stay alive, but we made it through.
Anyway, yeah I was happy to see him, and our weekend was great. We went to breakfast, we went to the pool, it was awesome. I even weeded (wed? weed? weeded?) the garden for about 15 minutes. I don’t know what it is with that garden. Every year I have a vegetable garden. Every year since we’ve lived in this house. And every year, despite my black thumb, we seem to at least get some zucchini and some cucumbers out of the mix. We have a raspberry bush that occasionally produces 10-15 edible raspberries if I’m lucky. At least enough to throw in some oatmeal one day. One year I actually had a successful head of lettuce. I think.
But even with the zucchini, which let’s face it a monkey could grow, mostly it’s just weeds and I think it causes me more stress than happiness. Which is not really the point of gardening is it? I like to imagine myself as some contented housewife with her floral gardening gloves and big floppy hat just enjoying the sunshine and digging in the dirt, emerging with a bounty of beautiful fresh organic vegetables that I can then lovingly serve to my family. But more often that not, it’s me out there in my pajama bottoms during nap time swatting at the flies and cursing the spade and wondering if those leaves are weeds or some sort of vegetable, wondering what I planted again and accidentally digging up the one little sprouted carrot I did have. I do enjoy the herbs, I feel proud when I actually keep the basil alive and can put it in a dish, but that’s rare.
In reality I think I just feel like I need to have a vegetable garden because we have the space for it, and lots of other people around here do it successfully, and it just seems like something I’ve always done. This year I am really trying to keep the little buggers alive, and so far I think I might be winning the war, but it just isn’t enjoyable for me. I guess I’d rather get my outside plant-y time by watering my pretty flowers that someone else planted and go buy my organic vegetables at the farmers market. Maybe I just need to accept that I’m not cut out for gardening. I’m going to suffer through the rest of this year, and so help me god we better get some cherry tomatoes or I will cut someone, but next year I give up. I’m done. I think I’ll make the vegetable garden a sandbox for Evie and call it a day.