Does growing a pepper that could cauterize a wound count?
Joseph Mackereth
In my recent column titled “Confession” I wondered if I could get my life in order by emulating my great-grandmother Lillian—she of a frugality so deep that she was a Victory Garden girl before there was such a thing.
My problem? Problems actually. My attention span is that of a 5-year-old, my impulse-control is nil and my retirement fund could fit in a small piggy bank. I need some order, some patience, some control in my life. I can’t think of anyone that embodied these traits more thoroughly than Miss Lillian.
I took the first step last month when I stopped ordering from Amazon, which I had truly started to view as my fairy godmother and UPS as her trusty elves. I quit Amazon cold turkey. That was unexpectedly hard. I almost took up smoking to deal with the withdrawals from mindless consumerism. I am proud of myself for achieving this.
What’s the next step in becoming Miss Lillian? Since I can’t sew a button on a shirt without people being able to spot it from 10 feet away, I won’t be doing much mending. I would have to practice a lot to come near her baking level, plus they did just open a pretty good bakery just 10 miles from here, so I doubt baking is in my future. Canning and preserving are certainly choices, but I’ve been skittish around pressure cookers since my mom exploded spaghetti sauce all over the kitchen ceiling one summer.
I know. I will put in a garden. I can garden. I’ve gardened before. I used to love gardening. I haven’t touched a hoe since my back operation, but I don’t need to do a huge, feed-the-family-over-winter garden. A small, manageable garden, perfect for feeding two people over the summer would be great.
Okay, what do I need? I don’t have a prepared garden plot. I don’t have a tiller. That’s okay. I can just do gardening in containers. Container gardening is all the rage among people who’ve had back operations. It’s on trend.
Anyone who has read this column before will know what’s coming next. I am not the type of person who understands the words “small” or “manageable,” and true to personality, I jumped into the deep end of the pool instead of wading into this hobby slowly. I ordered pretty, self-watering containers, enough seeds to blanket an entire acre and assorted tools and garden wear, shiny and cute.
Let’s talk about my seed and plant choices. It seems I like to choose plants based on the color of the fruit or vegetable. I strive for planters that are stunning as well as edible. That’s how I ended up with four different cherry tomatoes, all different, interesting colors, and not one sandwich tomato in sight. What was I thinking? I chose peppers based on how pretty the plant was and totally neglected how spicy or edible they were. It looks like a few of the peppers I planted could cauterize wounds and may not be something I’ll enjoy eating. They’re gorgeous though.
Why did I get blueberry bushes? I’m just giving the starling population ammo to pummel my car with. How many blueberries can two people eat in a week? At least they freeze easily. Freezing is easier than canning in that I haven’t had an explosion, yet. If it’s possible, it’ll happen.
Quite frankly, I am embarrassed. I tried to be Miss Lillian but the Molly in me was too strong. Unbridled enthusiasm for something new overtook the slow, careful approach and stomped all over it. All I can do is try again.
This time though, instead of becoming Miss Lillian, which turns out is too big a task for me, I will become a Better Molly. Gardening should not suck $500 out of my wallet every time I turn around. Gardening can be cute while being efficient. Small and manageable. Small and manageable. That’s my motto. Everything must have a purpose and a place. Oh my god, have y’all seen these metal chicken sculptures? They’re darling and I need them.
Look away, Miss Lillian.
The story above first appeared in our May / June 2023 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!