As a first-year gardener I’ve made plenty of rookie mistakes this growing season. … Planting too late in the spring, spacing plants too closely together, and not reading the directions on the seed labels.
Actually, the garden wasn’t intended to be a garden in the first place.
It started as a swath of dirt our neighbor turned over for us with his tiller. “How big do you want it your garden?” he asked.
I didn’t know. I had 24 asparagus shoots that needed a forever home.
He dropped the blades in the ground and produced a lovely patch of soft, black dirt that appeared to be just right.
The 24 asparagus seedlings formed two tidy rows that filled only a quarter of our “garden.”
So, when the neighbor ladies were buying surplus “flats” of tomato plants on sale, I went in on a few.
After all, I had space in my garden.
And when one of the gals ended up with too many, I rescued the orphaned ‘maters.
Because I had space in my garden.
And when my mother-in-law stopped over with a few cherry tomato plants, I gladly accepted them.
Because I had space in my garden.
… Or so I thought.
The baby asparagus shoots and rescued tomato plants at first grew neatly in their rows.
I weeded them and watered them, and built a chicken-wire fence around them to keep out the rabbits and deer.
And my garden grew.
As did my confidence as a garden newbie.
The asparagus feathered out and the tomatoes produced blooms.
And they continued to grow.
As did my concern when they began growing over the top of and in between each other’s rows.
Pretty soon there were no rows — only tangled vines of plants with large leaves that were hard to discern from weeds.
And before I knew it, large green tomatoes — too many to count — began forming under the heavy foliage.
After consulting the label for my “Big Beef” slicer tomatoes, I learned they should be “caged or staked” up to 36 inches apart.
The picture showed shrub-like greenery with bright red tomatoes happily dangling from climbing vines … not lying in the dirt as mine were.
As my garden grows increasingly unruly, I’m wondering what my mom would say to reassure me.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” or “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
But mostly what comes to mind as I prepare for a bumper tomato crop is, “My eyes were bigger than my stomach,” at planting time. In other words, “My garden vision was bigger than the space in my pantry.”
Salsa recipes anyone?