Tuesday, July 29, 2008
I have finally found a plant that I can't kill. Several glorious zucchini plants are sprawled across my garden boxes, and for the first time EVER we're actually eating food from our own garden. Well, technically we're also eating food from many neighbors' gardens, because my black thumb is notorious and over the years people have taken pity on me and designated us as the drop-off for surplus produce.
The kids liked the theory of eating something we grew ourselves far more than they liked the reality of zucchini stir-fry. Of course, if they controlled the menu we would live solely on macaroni and cheese, chicken nuggets, fruit snacks, and grape soda, so I take their opinions with a grain of salt.
I know, I know, there really isn't any honor in harvesting zucchini. My friend considers it the weed food. She laughed until she cried when she saw how many zucchini plants I put in this year. "Is it even possible to kill zucchini," she wondered. Since I'm probably the ultimate test, I can state with some authority now that, no, apparently it is not possible to kill zucchini. Those hardy vegetables can survive even me.
Not everyone would be thrilled with a garden full of zucchini; fortunately I love zucchini. I could eat it every day. Good thing, as apparently I will be.
My gardening methodology is one of benign neglect. Come to think of it, that pretty well describes my parenting. Many posts ago I blogged about how parenting was like gardening--you don't control the outcome; you only control certain aspects of the environment. If that's true, I suspect that God, knowing how I am with growing things, sent me zucchini children. Hardy, resilient, independent, abundant, and thriving in spite of me--yep, that's my kind of kids. Good thing I love zucchini.