Thursday, September 17, 2009
Sometimes the universe still surprises me.

A few months ago when we had that terrible hailstorm that damaged 75% of the roofs in our neighborhood and left my garden looking like it'd been shot down by kamikaze veggie haters, I was heartbroken. D had built me a raised garden bed for Mother's Day and E and I had spent a lot of time back there planting, weeding and mulching. As my tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, green bean, onions and pumpkin seedlings grew, so did my ability to patiently and creatively work alongside a very determined and headstrong two-yr old boy. Then the hailstorm came and left machine-gun holes in everything we had tended to. A summer without homegrown heirloom and sungold tomatoes left me depressed, but the pumpkin vine is what really broke my heart in two. I had pinned my hopes on having our very own pumpkins for E and B. As I stood in the midst of the tragedy that laid at my feet, I tried to talk myself out of the sadness. E won't care - he's 2. And B, well, she'll be days or maybe weeks old so I'm pretty sure that she won't care either. No, I confess that it was I who cared and I knew I needed to let it go. We'd buy the flavorless variety of tomatoes at the grocery store and we'd buy E a $10 pumpkin at Safeway and life would go on.

Well, our zucchini managed to make a glorious comeback (cue LL Cool J now) and let me tell you, I'm grateful it came so close to total annihilation because I can't imagine what it would have looked like had it not. We've had a steady supply of zucchini now for months and we give it away pretty regularly. The tomatoes, while fighting the good fight, didn't come back with the gusto of their neighbors, but they came back and the fruit they have offered has been delicious. But the pumpkin vines...there had to be over 100 feet of vines weaving back and forth throughout the garden, over the a/c, through the frame of the wheelbarrow and along the fence. And guess how many pumpkins we got? Just guess.


And the best part of all? Without the miles of vines to get in his way, now E can access the "razbiddies" himself and eat them right off the stalks. In his pajamas. With his wild-ass hair and waffle crumbs on his chin. To his heart's content. And there's nothing more gratifying than enjoying the fruits of your labor. Especially when he's enjoying the fruits of his.


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