Lauren Lejeune

When I planted my garden this spring, I was so excited for the prospect of what might be harvested this fall. I planted an array of vegetables, herbs and even some flowers, as well as some started tomato plants. Well, it’s September now. I’ve gotten one tomato. And I’m giving up. 

I’ve spent a good chunk of time weeding, watering and praying all summer long, hoping that I would have a good turnout as I did last year. Imagine my surprise and disdain when absolutely nothing happened. My tomatoes grew, but October is here and I have a slew of green tomatoes that seem to be too shy to blush even a hint of red. A disappointment — if grocery stores were no more, I would surely not survive the winter. 

The truth I will have to admit is that in the slew of things and on goings of life, I simply planted too late. I wanted to start inside; last year I turned my kitchen table into a full blown nursery. Last year I also didn’t have a cat who was always up to no good either, so the table was out. 

Besides the tomatoes, a few little sprouts of chamomile came up, but nothing else from seeds sprouted. A conundrum I haven’t been able to solve. Surely, I thought, even if I wasn’t able to harvest anything, the plant would have at least sprouted. It would have made me feel slightly better about my luck. What does this say about my green thumb?

It is best to look at all of this as positively as possible. I didn’t draw hunting tags this year, and I couldn’t grow anything if my life depended on it. But both of my freezers are full, albeit one is completely full with almost 60 gallons of grapes and the other full of game meat and peaches I bought from a 4-H group. Yes, the brightside. I will survive the winter on elk meat and homemade wine. Maybe I’ll even make a peach cobbler. 

I guess my advice to anyone trying to garden would be to start early, find a spot somewhere inside and get those bad boys started way ahead of schedule. Or plant early and pray hard. But don’t plant late, whatever you do. Perhaps I’ll build a little greenhouse next year. My grandma built the cutest greenhouse, complete with hanging lights and plants practically spilling out of the door; she is the gardener I aspire to be. Even my mom’s garden has been overflowing with produce since the beginning of August. 

Thankfully, I can pull everything up. Wipe the slate clean and start again next year. Perhaps all of the seeds planted this year are just late bloomers. Get it? Late bloomers. 

It’s time for pumpkins. And yellow leaves. And canning peaches.