There are days when I stand in my tiny garden and think my Grandfather Fletcher would be proud. I may not have my mother’s knack for landscaping, I may find it impossible to keep a houseplant alive, but maybe the Epperson green thumb didn’t skip me entirely. Just look at those tomato plants!
Of course, every time I start to feel like I’ve got this worked out, something comes along to show me just how little I really know. Like the fact that two of my three varieties of tomato have yet to produce a single fruit, despite dozens of flowers that just dry up and fall off. Is it too much water, or not enough? Is it that the flowers are not being pollinated (where have all the bees gone??) Or are the temperatures at night just not falling low enough for baby tomatoes to develop? And then of course there is this:
How can one little worm do so much damage in one night? Or are there many, many more just like him (though doing a better job of hiding from me?)
I wish I could just call my Grandfather up and ask him about all of this. Funny how much you can miss someone even after more than a decade. My guess is, flawed as my garden may be he would still be proud of it.