“If you are not killing plants, you’re not really stretching yourself as a gardener.” — J.C. Raulston
Well, if it’s true that killing plants somehow improves your gardening skill, I’m hitting expert level in my yard. The lawn is green, at least most of it, and does it matter that some of it is grass and the rest is a combination of weeds and random bits of leaves and stems? There are blackberry bushes interspersed with these other giant branches of something, and a friend said I should weed it all out, “stake” the blackberries, and mulch the soil. If I knew what any of that meant, I might try it.
Next are some arbor vitae bushes that only survive because someone else planted them; all I had to do was turn on the hose twice a day. A mystery vine seems to be creeping in and out of them and might have murderous intentions; it’s hard to tell because I was absent the day they taught botany in kindergarten. There used to be some lilacs, purple ones, and white ones, but they gave up, and I can’t say I blame them.
I am in awe of people who know what they’re doing in a garden. I was visiting with a friend the other day in her gorgeous yard, and while she was sweating and pulling weeds, I was sitting in the shade. I should have offered to help, but since I don’t know what’s a weed and what isn’t, it was probably best to stay out of it. Gardening is one of those skills that takes years to develop. You either have to grow up in a family with a garden or hang around people who garden. There’s no other way but to spend time figuring it all out, which might be why it doesn’t work for me; I have the patience and attention span of a gnat on crack.
This year, however, I’m planting tomatoes—one small container—and I’m already wondering if I’m in over my head. The dollar store had these little seed balls in a box, and it said if you plant them, you get tomatoes. I picked up a container and a cute little shovel with matching gloves, so my investment is about $6 and maybe 4 hours of research and asking questions.
My first question was, “What kind of dirt do I need?” I mean, I have a yard with several bald spots where the dirt is right there; I suppose I could use that, but wait…there’s more. At the transfer station in town, there’s a pile of dirt with a screen over it, and I see people shoveling it and taking the dirt. After asking, I found that it’s not dirt; it’s compost. Compost starts as old bones, egg shells, and coffee grounds, but if you leave it around long enough, it turns into something you can add to your garden.
If you buy a bag of dirt, you can get the kind that has compost in it, but I got lucky, and someone I know had an extra bag, so that’s all set. My neighbor asked if I was starting from seeds or plants. I said, “I have this ball, and it has some seeds, but some roots too. I don’t know what it is, but it will be planted.” I may be overestimating the power of a dollar store ball of dried roots.
My son asked me, “What kind of tomatoes?” Good question. The box said, “Garden tomatoes,” and it makes me think whoever makes these little root balls doesn’t know much either. I mean, are there other places that produce tomatoes besides a garden? Are there 3D-printed tomatoes? Lab-grown? There had better not be an AI app for this. It should be fun, though, because if anything manages to come out of this, I will be happy with it. Cherry, plum, roma, heirloom? Whatever, they’re all ‘maters, right?
I’m looking forward to my tomato efforts, and whatever comes of it will at least be a learning experience. Thankfully, I have good friends who are also good gardners and can advise me. Stay tuned for the harvest update.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.
