When my wife and I lived in our house in the Mount Vernon District of Virginia, we had a fairly good-sized lot, half of which was taken up by our pool, and the rest lay pretty well unkempt with lots of brush and weeds. Remembering my childhood, specifically my second grade class in Germany, each student was allocated a small lot and instructed to plant vegetables—lettuce, radishes, beans, and tomatoes. I thought, now, why can’t I do that on my otherwise useless lot? If I could grow tomatoes at age seven, I surely should be able to do it in my senior years. All I needed was a spade, a connected watering hose, and some seeds. A wonderful thought!
Well, to start that project, I first needed to conquer the brush and weeds that covered the half of my lot that did not connect with the swimming pool. This had not been a part of my brilliant initial plan but obviously was absolutely necessary. And it was not so simple to do. I certainly should have been prepared for that. First, weed cutters—I had those in my garden shed, where I also discovered my daughter’s red wagon that she had played with when she was a child. Now, this would help carry the cut twigs. Then, I needed a place for the debris—at the far end of my plot. Next, I must turn to the poison ivy, which was prevalent among the weeds. Now that required patience, a pair of plastic gloves, which I also found in the shed, and great care as I pulled the plants. I really was very careful doing that, since I well remembered a nasty case of poison ivy right after we bought the house about 35 years earlier. That is why I had avoided half of my plot for so many years. But with care, this should be manageable. It took half a day pulling the plants, ensuring that they would not brush against my clothing. Well, at that point, I abandoned the effort to clear all of the poison ivy flourishing on my property; it was enough to do it just around where I was going to plant the tomatoes. Finally, I was done, and I took off my gloves and carried them back to my shed, where they had rested, unused for so many years. Ouch, the next day, my hands and wrists showed all the symptoms of poison ivy. I had touched the outside of the gloves when I carried them to the shed—I had not been that careful after all. I abandoned my work for a week before I regained my energy to continue with my task to plant those darn tomatoes.
An area of 12 x 6 yards was clear of all brush and weeds, as well as along the access route and some surrounding area, where I could prepare the garden plot for planting. The shovel was now the important tool. But again, I had underestimated the project. The earth was made of clay, and the shovel did not penetrate with a simple shove. All my weight had to get on top of the shovel before there was any penetration. This again would take some time to complete. And my tomatoes would never grow in clay. I had to remove the clay and buy some bags of planting soil. And then, did I really want to start with seeds when there were some small tomato plants available in the garden store? I bought four bags of dirt and nine plants—that ought to give me enough tomatoes.
Well, finally I could see some daylight to completing my project. I had removed the clay and carried it off in the red wagon to the end of my plot, which luckily bordered the county’s watershed, so nobody would complain. I filled the excavation with the soil I had purchased and planted my nine tomato plants, all without a single problem. I would have clear sailing from now on! The watering hose reached my plot, and I religiously used it every day; again, no problem. The tomato plants gained height, the leaves were a deep green, just lovely! I admired my plants. No problem. Well, there appeared to be one small problem—where were the tomatoes? Another week, still no tomatoes. Had there been insufficient sun? Did I water too much? Should I have used some fertilizer? Were the plants from the garden store deficient? But I did have beautiful green plants! Actually, it was a total loss! There were no tomatoes, and there would not be any. Well, as all gardeners say, there is always next year … but I did not try this again the next year.
Now, I live in a senior housing community, and here, they offer you a small garden plot where you can grow your vegetables and tomatoes. I avoid that offer like the plague. My neighbor gifted me with four tomatoes last year, which he had grown in his lot. He had more tomatoes than he could eat. Now, I understand that’s the way to get your tomatoes!
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