Ann Ipock
            Humorist, author, speaker

I Did It My Way—So What If I End Up With A $$$$ Salad?
by Ann Ipock

The following words will probably be written on my epitaph: “She didn’t always get the results she hoped for – but she did it HER way.” A recording of Frank Sinatra’s, “My Way,” will be blasting from a nearby speaker. Leave it to me to break the rules, reinvent the wheel and complicate things – even when it comes to what should have been a simple gardening project in recent days.

You know how restaurants get reviewed (casual, dressy, jacket required) in periodicals, and then rated on their menu prices? The latter is represented by dollar bill signs – one for every $10. Well, I’m personally rating my vegetable garden this year $$$$, because somehow, somewhere along the line, it became very pricey. It’s not even a true garden patch, which was my original intention. Instead, it’s more like a garden pot. That’s a story in and of itself. Have you priced gardening containers lately?

The first container I picked out was decorative, yet functional. The only problem was the store wanted $46. Shoot! I’d have to grow three bushels of cucumbers to break even. So, I moved on to the Smith & Hawken look-alikes; the ones resembling stone, but made of something like Styrofoam. I quickly decided that would be too flimsy to hold a backhoe worth of dirt. Finally, I checked out clay pots – not too bad price-wise, but since they’re clay, they dry out too fast. You’re probably thinking, “So, lady, why didn’t you just plant the stuff in the ground like NORMAL people?” That’s because a) I am not normal and b) I don’t have the right soil. (And let’s not forget: I do things MY way.)

Okay, I have the right soil but I have the wrong insects. Some gardeners get lucky by having a yard full of little critters that eat annoying creepy-crawlies. I hear ladybugs are a great example. I’ve never found one in our yard. Others have earth worms that loosen the soil, making it easier to work with. I’ve found three in nine years of living here. What we do have, however, are strange, unidentifiable creatures – like, little green things 1/8" long that look (and hop) like grasshoppers. And, we have other pests that are recognizable: Moths, for instance. We also have slugs. Heck, we’re infested with roly-polys. And finally, we have these super-weird fat centipedes that are orange with black stripes. I spent a whole day on the internet trying to figure out what they are, but to no avail. I did, however, learn a lot about grubs, weevils, larvae, worms and caterpillars. Big deal – not such interesting Saturday night dinner conversation, huh?

I actually started my gardening project late this year. I wasn’t even going to buy any plants, what with the coolish spring, and my staying so busy with other projects. But, just like every year for the past thirty-some years, I got the bug (so to speak). One trip to my friendly home improvement store, and my trunk was filled with bags of high-quality potting medium – sterile soil, peat moss, perlite and time-released fertilizer. I also had zinnias, petunias, marigolds, purple coneflower, herbs, geraniums, purple sage and asparagus fern. But, I foolishly longed for a vegetable garden, that pie-in-the-sky idea that always backfires on me. Knowing that fact full well, I’ll never completely abandon the fantasy. Two summers ago, I went through a similar mental disorder, and when all was said and done, I stood at my fence one afternoon horrified. I scolded that puny single tomato, as if it were a naughty child, “Why aren’t you turning red? Why aren’t you getting any bigger? It’s been two weeks since you first appeared. And, why in the heck are you the only fruit on this vine?” It was all I could do not to cry. Obviously, there was no reply from the pitiful, tiny green globe – though a neighbor hiding behind his shed surprised me with muffled laughter. Out of disgust and exasperation, I left the tomato alone. It, in turn, fossilized on the vine.

Undeterred, I decided this year to let bygones be bygones. I may often think out of the box, but in this case, I envisioned a box: A box-full of vegetables, that is! In all reality, I was simply keeping up with the Joneses, since my best friend (not a Jones, but a classy chick) proudly announced out of the blue one day that she was going to have a vegetable garden. Hmmmmm, I thought, “What’s the harm in trying?” Apparently, this “you can do it” Farmer-Ann-Monster had been unleashed once more! So, Carolyn picked me up, and off we went to the garden center. On that day, I bought a 20" plastic flower pot, a decorative wire cage (to support the climbing vines), two more bags of potting soil, a tomato plant, two cucumber plants, a bell pepper plant and a banana pepper plant. I’ve finally gotten my plants up and running – though where to, I’m not exactly sure. Every day I go out there and talk to the little fellas. I water them. I fertilize them. I protect them. So far, so good.

By summer’s end, all I’ll have to buy is a head of lettuce. I think I’ll really enjoy that salad. You know what they say: You can’t put a price tag on a homemade (and homegrown) meal. Or can you? The more I think about it, that one-dish meal will have cost me $42 and some odd change. And that is – providing my total yield is more than one green tomato. ••

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