I’m emotionally attached to my plants. I didn’t think it could happen or even would happen to me. But it has. Pa Pitts harvested a row of baby greens for a salad last night. I couldn’t eat it. These were my plants that I slaved over and protected from slugs, and drought, and weeds of the most voracious kind. (Actually I just wanted to eat Chinese food instead and didn’t know about the salad until it was gone.)
I forced myself to thin out the carrots and I felt like I was putting my garden at risk. What if the strongest ones dont survive? what if i pulled the wrong ones? I don’t like pulling anything remotely resembling a good plant. I forced myself to pull out the tomato plants that sprouted in my spinach and carrots because I couldn’t have them crowding out the other plants. Survival of the fittest is not allowed in the wrong spot! I will soon write an entry on what constitutes a weed (according to Pa Pitts). I am very attached to carrots.
When Pa Pitts harvests my lettuce I will look like a failure! I will no longer have nice neat rows of lettuce that are a testament to my prowess in the garden. I’ll have to try my hand at growing more things. So as not to leave gaping holes or patches of dirt. So far I’m good with lettuce and carrots. I suppose it’s because I consider them real food, where bok choy and okra are a little iffy. Seriously? Who eats those? Carrots are read edible food that often appears in my refrigerator. By way of the costco. No more! I will grow my own. I will be the best carrot farmer in the world! Until my father pulls them all out and we feast on them for dinner. And then I have to start the whole stupid circle of life over again. Dangit.
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