Trial, error and tomatoes

I have a lot to learn about gardening.
Many years ago, I began fantasizing about having my own little Eden, a bit of this, a bit of that: vegetables, fruits, flowers and herbs. After procrastinating for decades, I finally did it.

In early April, I ordered seeds. And not just a few. I ordered The Seed Vault Kit, 16,000 heirloom seeds in 35 varieties from Gardeners Basics. They’re heirloom, non-GMO, non-hybrid, proudly grown in the U.S., and apparently meant to be stored in a cool, dark place, preferably the refrigerator or freezer. I learned that only after rereading the back of the package I’ve been “storing” on the warm windowsill.

Oops.

I planted seeds in Burpee 72-cell self-watering seed starter kits, right on the bumped-out windowsill where my green-thumbed grandmama, Anna Stelljes, used to keep her indoor plants. It felt like a small tribute to her, a continuation of something she started.

I went to Lowe’s for more supplies. When I asked for advice, such as how to create the perfect soil-and-compost mixture, no one seemed to know anything.

“Sorry, I just work here. I don’t really know much about plants.”

I miss old-fashioned feed-and-seed shops, where someone behind the counter could tell you exactly what to do without consulting AI or Mr. Google.

I lugged heavy bags of soil, manure and perlite to the planters, where I tumped it all out and mixed until my arms and back were on fire.

My left brain said, “You’re crazy.” My right brain said, “Yes, I am, but I’m not quitting.”

I waited a few weeks for my seedlings to grow big enough to face the great outdoors.

Of course, I put too many seeds in some of the cells. Separating the extras felt like performing tiny, delicate surgeries. Ugh. I am such a newbie.

And because I ran out of room, I bought 10 15-gallon grow bags. Four of them just for sweet potatoes, complete with little plastic windows under canvas flaps so I can peek at the roots and tubers when harvest time comes. Two for tomatoes, one for Japanese eggplant, one for dill, one for cantaloupe and one for watermelon.

The cucumbers and tomatoes needed something to climb, so I bought snap-together cages and a giant trellis that makes me look far more competent than I actually am.

Before planting, I did some research: which vegetables, fruits, flowers and herbs to grow, how to care for them and what to plant each month. Microsoft Copilot gently warned me that planting too early or too late (I did both) was risky, but with good weather, I might squeak by. The more I learned, the more overwhelmed I felt.

Don Shirley in Hardeeville had some ready-to-plant baby veggies, and I bought a few just to give myself a bit of confidence.

I’m still learning about fertilizing, watering mistakes, companion planting, pests, spacing and all the other things seasoned gardeners already know. I even bought an app to help identify anything and everything my little Eden inhabitants might need to stay healthy and strong.

So, here’s what I planted: several kinds of lettuce and tomatoes, purple and white cabbage, purple and white cauliflower, kale, cucumbers, Japanese eggplant, sweet potatoes, watermelon, cantaloupe, strawberries, dill, purple and green basil, rosemary, sunflowers and mint.

Lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes have been abundant and taste so much better than anything from the grocery store. The strawberry plants are pretty and plentiful, but the berries haven’t been big or sweet, maybe because I planted them too early. I have two eggplants ready to become moussaka. The mint, basil, watermelon, cantaloupe and sweet potatoes are happy, happy, happy. The dill looks pitifully small but healthy. My two rosemary plants are thriving, and the taller-than-me sunflowers are starting to flower.

Every morning, I can barely wait to go outside to see what’s new, a blossom, a baby fruit, a surprise vegetable. Agricultural miracles.
Gardening has brought me so much joy. There is something deeply satisfying about growing plants.

I remember reading “The Secret Life of Plants” back in the early ’70s when I was a junior in high school in Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I’m still inclined to believe that plants do better when they’re spoken kindly to or sung to, even though the book’s claims about plant telepathy, emotional responses and lie-detector experiments have long been disproved.

Paramount made a 95-minute documentary with a Stevie Wonder soundtrack, time-lapse photography showing vines reaching, mushrooms opening and flowers unfurling as if in bliss, plus a dramatic scene in which a plant hooked up to electrodes supposedly reacts in horror while a researcher chops a head of lettuce in front of it. Science fiction or not, it was mesmerizing.

Now that July and August are here, I’m planting okra, broccoli, lima beans, more cucumbers, pumpkins, summer squash, marigolds and zinnias, all perfect for Bluffton’s steamy summers.

The only other way to get this kind of deliciousness is to buy from local farmers, like my friends at the Crosby family farm, about 15 minutes from Bluffton on the way to Savannah, at 3824 Okatie Highway in Hardeeville, open from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. They have a Facebook page called Crosby Gardens Heritage-Okatie. Babs and Dan Utley are also local growers, on a smaller scale, and you can find out more on Babs Utley’s Facebook page.

I never expected my grocery bill to drop immediately. Maybe next year, or the year after, I’ll look back at my silly mistakes, laugh and finally feel like “Farmer Tamela” isn’t just a charming delusion.

Tamela is a proofreader and book editor; she hosts paint parties for adults, art and drama camp for kids, and is the art teacher at May River Montessori. www.tamelamaxim.com www.artposseproductions.com