i am no gardener. i have never gardened. and i don't really plan on gardening this year.
thank goodness for the wife, i can remain the garden's head cheerleader, executive producer, and number one fan.
because i have high hopes for our humble gardens this year.
last year was all about moving into our new space. we planted everything far too late. our tomatoes stayed green, having been put into the ground in august.
we planted what we did for the excitement of actually having a space with soil in the ground, with which to experiment.
happily, some herbs survived the winter.
the hydrangea is coming back.
and miraculously, my tulips are making ready for their spring show.
but this year. oh this year. we have a plot of land outside of our little home that enjoys direct sun.
and i want tomatoes. baskets and baskets of tomatoes. i want to can them and store them year-round.
i read this post, you see; and it spoiled my taste for canned tomatoes (among other things). so i am hopeful and determined to can my own.
in my university years, one of my roommates' parents always brought her mason jars of salsa and canned tomatoes from their summer garden. those tomatoes always tasted of the sun. and there is something rather comforting - and even romantic - about growing your own tomatoes and then canning them in gleaming glass jars: rather like saving some part of the summer light to be opened in the winter for nourishment.
the wife laughs heartily and unabashedly at me when i speak of my harvesting hopes. she wanly tells me that she must reign me in.
|the wife, sowing tomato seeds.|
i am crossing my fingers they take to the peat.
we've never done this before.
our first goal, after all, should be to successfully sow the seeds for planting, hope the seeds take to the soil in which they're set, hold our breath that they grow at all, and then get those tomatoes to our summer table.
then we'll see about canning one or two jars.