Back in the Garden.

Here we are again... Gardening vs. Lea, Round Two.

This time I have done more than throw a handful of stolen seeds in a hole, pat them and walk away. This time I am determined to be more successful. This time I bought mulch and seedlings. This time I used compost.

It has now been a week and my tomato, basil and lettuce are not dead. They have in fact grown. Presumably this fact is directly related to the fact that they have actually been watered. This is essential, as some dusty and previously unused old piece of information in my head informs me. You see I’m fobbing my way through this gardening venture using snippets of information gained from trusted websites like about.com and the instructions given to me in primary school bout how to plant things. I spent hours in Bunnings weighing up the odds – potting mix, mulch, liquid fertiliser, blood and bone or granulated plant food..... Shit. Fuck. Bastards. “Close your eyes and grab one.” I tell myself. Let me tell you now there are far too many choices to make in this life. And making decisions when you have no idea at all... well I just can’t begin to tell you how stressful the whole shebang is.

For example - If the tag says ‘harvest frequently to encourage growth’ I wonder do I take the whole stem? Or just the leaf? What if I take too much and it dies? Sweet jesus I don’t want to rape the thing!

If the tag says ‘keep moist’ I deliberate – what might that be code for? Once a day? Twice? I water it a little. Oh what if that isn’t enough, I wonder? Better give it some more. “Oh my god I’ve drowned it!” I yell, collapsing in a miserable heap on the ground.

It’s just the wellbeing of my plants I’m concerned about. And perhaps my dignity. By now it should be clear to you that I’ve invested just a tad too much emotion in this. This was made clear to me when I sat bolt upright in bed first thing in the morning and announced that I had to buy fertiliser, urgently. “Shut up,” said the look in my girlfriends eyes.

Its simply the fact that I know nothing about plants, soil or how to grow things that both intrigues me and stresses me out. That and the fact I just don’t seem to be a very chilled-out type. (An issue which is further compounded by the unpleasant experience of digging up the soil and unearthing all kinds of things that creep, crawl and slither.)

I suppose though that this venture is going to be much like learning to cook, or anything in life really – a matter of trial and error. The first trial was a clear error. The second will hopefully yield fruit. (Literally.)