"In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous." --Aristotle
Before this year, I had never grown a garden. Not even some herbs in the windowsill. After some yard construction and a busy spring Joe and I built three wooden boxes in the front yard and filled them with dirt and some compost we got for free in the Whole Foods parking lot. Besides water, there wasn't much else to do but wait.
Joe has made other posts throughout the summer about the bounty and the progress, and there was much of both. This post, however, is about today.
Three months later, and the frost is upon is. We spent tonight outside in our pajamas in the dark picking the final fruit from the vine. Most of it isn't fully ripe (the ripe ones usually turn into lunch on the same day), but the weather has forced our hand. My mom has given us some instructions on how to ripen our tomatoes inside, we've got a plan for roasted pepper paninis, and I suppose I need to do some research on pickling jalapenos.
This was our first garden. Something about it has made me understand my mother better, Aunt Susie better, people better. It isn't complicated actually. At all. Stacy Johnson told me a few years ago to just plant it and water it.
It's not about being a foodie, a hippie, an organic and local-only yuppie. It's about eating, and realizing that it doesn't take much to grow a plant beyond desire and a good pot.
Next year we will probably do more, earlier. Maybe not more tomatoes? I only bought two plants. I think they were $10 each. Check. It. Out.
Steam them in tupperware for 15 minutes so skins seperate more.
