It’s a good thing Brandon is the farmer

by Katie on April 14, 2009

Just a couple weeks ago, Rayanne gave me some tomato and squash plants she had leftover from planting her garden to try for myself at our house. 
I haven’t experimented with much, but I’ve never had the best luck growing things. I did manage to keep a tiny house plant alive for four years, but I think I tossed it out when I left College Station. 
My other experiences growing things are as follows: 
  1. When I was nine, I planted some watermelon seeds by our back door, and diligently kept the plant watered. When I told my parents I was growing a water melon vine in our backyard, they told me I had been watering a weed. So I stopped. About the time it was dying, my mom really looked at it one day, and decided it was indeed a watermelon vine. Too late.
  2. At one of my college residences, I decided to grow some jalapeno and habanero peppers. Right about the time they were sprouting tiny peppers, the lawn boy mowed them down. 
  3. I bought a pot of assorted cactus’ my last year at A&M. I killed one. How does anyone kill a cactus? When you water them in a climate where it rains every other day. Apparently not good for a cactus. I left the cactus pot in Texas, where my mom has kept them all alive, and one has grown a solid foot. 

Needless to say, I don’t really have a “green thumb” background. Which doesn’t make much sense to me, because it’s definitely in my genetics. My MeMe always had flowers galore in her front yard, and my grandma had a huge vegetable garden for years.
But, apparently those talents, along with all of their creativity and craftiness, did not reach my share of the DNA.
This was my mini-garden the day after planting: 
This was my mini-garden on Good Friday:
Now, the state of my garden is not completely my fault. I had only killed two plants before our lovely hound dog took over. At first, he just dug up the dead plants. No big deal, right? Then, on Good Friday, we were outside and Brandon yelled, “Hey, the dogs got in your garden, huh?”
Me: “Yeah, but just the dead plants.”
Brandon: “Uh, you already killed all those? Wow.”
So I go over to take a look. No, I had not killed that many plants. But that’s not to say I wouldn’t have. 
My mini-garden is now in the same state as the rest of our yard. You would think it was once a battle field. There are giant land mine-looking holes everywhere. 
Wilbur starts them by smelling a gopher underground, then Dixie takes lead and dirt flies four feet behind her with Wilbur howling at the hole all the while. The neighbors thoroughly enjoy it. About as much as they enjoy waking up to Wilbur at 3am (which is why we now sleep with the shock collar remote by the bed).
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