Fantasy Gardening

I just took down my garden. Some people play Fantasy Football; I play Fantasy Gardening. My imagination at the outset far outruns my production.

I wonder if  I’m deluding myself. Do I garden so when my mother offers vegetables from her prolific garden, I needn’t feel like a mooch?

This year’s garden wasn’t a total loss. Neither was last year’s St. Louis Rams season; they managed a few first downs. My garden scored a bowl of ripe tomatoes, first in many seasons. That makes me 2-17. The beans were exemplary, they won the Bean Bowl for a geographical area fifty feet in diameter. Whoopee!

But mostly I do gardens all wrong. We leave on vacation just ast the best part of the harvest is coming on: red zone failure. When we return, the beans and peas are stringy. I let the tomatoes droop and soil borne nasties rot them. Talk about not taking advantages of my strengths.

I did mount a good defense, though. The deer were thwarted. My 7′ fence, not a work of art, kept the munchers at bay. Now that the fence is down, I’ll wait to see if they help by stripping the foilage, or if they’re finicky and prefer the succulent stage of June and July, prior to fruit-bearing. I’m betting, nothing illegal here,  that they’ll spurn my offer of profuse vegetative stuff, and that I’ll have to pull the plants out to finish tidying up the place.

I spend way more than the $8.00 worth of produce I gain. I should get first pick in the draft for a decade.


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