The Millennial gardens
Apparently I was doing it all wrong last year, which is why the vegetable garden at CRC World Headquarters failed miserably. The Millennial advised me of this about halfway through the growing season when there was not a single green pepper on a massive pepper plant and the cherry tomato plants were withering.
I think it was because we got tired of watering in the 100-degree heat. But, no, The Millennial chided. That was not it.
It was because I was not politically correct in selecting the establishments where I’d purchased the plants. It seems that Home Depot and Lowe’s are not on the approved list of a generation that has only been voting for six years.
But, I don’t want to be accused of being behind the times since I hope The Millennial hasn’t noticed that I’m old enough to be his grandmother. Surely, he hasn’t.
So I found the most politically correct nursery I could: Gardens of Babylon (“Inspire! Create! Enjoy!“). A lovely young man with a 747 tattooed on his bicep led us through the virtues of tomatoes, peppers and potatoes. Isn’t that nice, I assume he thought…The Millennial helping his granny with her garden.
We bought organic soil enhancement stuff with worm castings (that is a nice word for poop) and kelp. We bought organic weed killer that smells like Lemon Pledge. We bought a rain barrel. A rain barrel. I’m trying to be all in.
The garden is in. I understand that talking to the plants is encouraged. I am told they sense rejection and become fearful if left…oh, I don’t know…just to grow. So I am talking to the plants.
Now The Millennial has turned his attention to a giant mulberry tree on the edge of our property. The berries are ripening but too high up to pick by hand. He thinks if he sets a tarp on the ground they will simply fall into it. I have not the heart to tell him that, like blackberries, they just stay attached to the tree until picked or rotted.
Perhaps I will talk to them, too. Tell them to … just let go.