July 25th — Laugh if you want. I planted a garden.  Well, that’s not exactly true.  But I do currently have a rather impressive looking raised bed in my backyard replete with tomatoes, cucumber and peppers. Well, that’s not exactly true either.

Let me back up.

For those of you know me, you know that I aspire to live on a Faux Farm and have a fab garden, gorgeous landscaping and perfectly appointed farmhouse – all as a backdrop for out-of-this-world gatherings and parties for family and friends. I have no skills to support this dream (except my ability to execute killer dinner parties, ergo my need for the finest and freshest ingredients). You should know that my mother, grandmother, aunts and various cousins have all, at one time, kept and managed rather significant gardens.  They own upright freezers and canning pots, if you can believe it. So I kid myself into thinking that I have this dormant gardening gene that simply needs to be “awakened” and voila! I will become a Gardening Queen – heiress to the perfect heirloom, keeper of the golden corn and expert of the eggplant. 

Experience? None. Desire? In spades (well, sort of, I actually used a small trowel).

I want to live Barbara Kingsolver’s life (in Animal, Plant, Miracle) without having to visit Amish people or to harvest cherries at midnight.  Kind of like Ruth Reichl meets Frances Mayes – dreamy, out of focus and so very earthy and romantic.  It would be memories of my childhood colliding with the perfect outside dinner party.  I mean, I taught myself to cook…isn’t communing with the earth and eating local the next logical step?

So, at the recommendation of my friend, Betsy, who also aspires to my “Farmer’s Market meets Johnson & Wales” kind of life, I called the Organic Gardener. And this guy named Don came and instructed me on how to plant my garden, right after a guy named (I don’t remember his name) came and set up a lovely, custom-built, raised cedar bed with a trellis and dumped a lot of dark, organic dirt in it.  So Don tells me  that any idiot with a spray hose and some seeds (and a big old fact check written out to Don himself) can raise a garden.  Well, that was in late May and I’m here to tell you that the check has cleared (my husband would croak if he knew how much I paid for this little gardening experiment),  the sprinklers have been sprinkling and I have nary a veggie to cast a shadow on my plate. There is stuff growing, that’s for sure. And despite my rather frenetic travel schedule, I have been diligent in watering. And since we shipped in special organic dirt, there’s not much weeding to do.  There’s a lotta leaves and no little maters, or cukes or peppers that are ready to hop into my little garden basket.

And I am sad.  Broke and sad.  But I will perservere.  Stay tuned. Summer isn’t over.

I’m going to try to take a pic of my garden and post it here.