Week 11: How Does Your Garden Grow?
Gardening is in theory a frugal practice. How else can you turn ten bucks worth of
seeds into a summer-long veggiepalooza? Not only is it cheap, homegrown produce is
organic, readily available, and if you do it right have zero impact on the environment. I
have a patchy track record with plants, but supposedly anyone can raise tomatoes and
a few other basic vegetables.
Supposedly.
The truth is, I have what you might call a brown thumb. My African violets are so abused
someone ought to call Vegetation Protective Services, and my roses are alive by the
grace of God alone. Petals wilt if I so much as walk by. Plus, I hate dirt and heat, both of
which are abundant in a summer garden.
So I am the most unlikely person to grace the garden department, but I was determined
to give it one final go. I researched my area, quizzed more knowledgeable friends, and
tested my soil. At the beginning of growing season, I joined the huddled masses in line
with pots of tomatoes and paper packets of seeds that became neat rows in tilled soil. I
watered, weeded, and watched in amazement as little green seedlings sprouted from
the earth.
I was a gardener after all! And there was proof! Not one to brag, I nevertheless referred
to my success in every possible context. “My children are bickering so much I can barely
leave them to water the garden.” “I’m making pesto for dinner, but with spicy basil
instead of sweet. No, I have no idea where to buy it; I just pick it from the herb garden on
my kitchen sill.”
Then I went off to have a baby on what happened to be the three hottest days this spring
and I returned to find my little plant friends wilted and brown. It was nothing minimal
knowledge and TLC couldn’t clear up, but I am clueless as to the needs of sick plants
and had no time to baby anything that didn’t spring from my loins. By the time I emerged
from my postpartum fog, the only survivors were my tomatoes and one scraggly basil
plant. The watermelons may make it if we don’t have an early frost.
Still, I am hesitant to call our garden a failure. First, it has been a fascinating process
for my children. The excitement of eating something that came from a plant we grew all
by ourselves overwhelms any disappointment over the seedlings that died. They love
any excuse to be in the dirt and don’t seem to mind the more menial chores like
watering and weeding. Second, despite the loss of most plants, I think we came out
ahead financially, although changing market prices make this difficult to measure. If I
were to calculate an hourly wage it would surely be somewhere down in the slave labor
range, but it’s been a labor of love.
Amount Saved: Negligible
Difficulty on Scale of 1-5: Depends. More skill will definitely
increase success and therefore savings.
Time: Hour after hour after hour...
Check out the Frugal Habit of the Week Archives
Gardening is in theory a frugal practice. How else can you turn ten bucks worth of
seeds into a summer-long veggiepalooza? Not only is it cheap, homegrown produce is
organic, readily available, and if you do it right have zero impact on the environment. I
have a patchy track record with plants, but supposedly anyone can raise tomatoes and
a few other basic vegetables.
Supposedly.
The truth is, I have what you might call a brown thumb. My African violets are so abused
someone ought to call Vegetation Protective Services, and my roses are alive by the
grace of God alone. Petals wilt if I so much as walk by. Plus, I hate dirt and heat, both of
which are abundant in a summer garden.
So I am the most unlikely person to grace the garden department, but I was determined
to give it one final go. I researched my area, quizzed more knowledgeable friends, and
tested my soil. At the beginning of growing season, I joined the huddled masses in line
with pots of tomatoes and paper packets of seeds that became neat rows in tilled soil. I
watered, weeded, and watched in amazement as little green seedlings sprouted from
the earth.
I was a gardener after all! And there was proof! Not one to brag, I nevertheless referred
to my success in every possible context. “My children are bickering so much I can barely
leave them to water the garden.” “I’m making pesto for dinner, but with spicy basil
instead of sweet. No, I have no idea where to buy it; I just pick it from the herb garden on
my kitchen sill.”
Then I went off to have a baby on what happened to be the three hottest days this spring
and I returned to find my little plant friends wilted and brown. It was nothing minimal
knowledge and TLC couldn’t clear up, but I am clueless as to the needs of sick plants
and had no time to baby anything that didn’t spring from my loins. By the time I emerged
from my postpartum fog, the only survivors were my tomatoes and one scraggly basil
plant. The watermelons may make it if we don’t have an early frost.
Still, I am hesitant to call our garden a failure. First, it has been a fascinating process
for my children. The excitement of eating something that came from a plant we grew all
by ourselves overwhelms any disappointment over the seedlings that died. They love
any excuse to be in the dirt and don’t seem to mind the more menial chores like
watering and weeding. Second, despite the loss of most plants, I think we came out
ahead financially, although changing market prices make this difficult to measure. If I
were to calculate an hourly wage it would surely be somewhere down in the slave labor
range, but it’s been a labor of love.
Amount Saved: Negligible
Difficulty on Scale of 1-5: Depends. More skill will definitely
increase success and therefore savings.
Time: Hour after hour after hour...
Check out the Frugal Habit of the Week Archives
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