So since I couldn’t quite pull off being the June Cleaver of St. Joseph, MO, I decided to try my hand at gardening. Nothing too strenuous the first year; just a tomato plant ($1.50 at Walmart) and a few flower seeds (that only cost $.75 at Walmart—who cares what kind they were; they looked pretty on the outside of the packet). Read ended up sticking the tomato plant and the flower seeds in the ground for me right before we left for vacation because I was working and preparing to be gone. While visiting my in-laws on vacation, Mom Wall gave me a few columbine plants to add to my garden. I was so excited! I could almost taste the juicy, red tomatoes and smell the columbine. It was going to be a great little garden.

As soon as I could after we got home, I planted my precious columbine in the dirt, watered the whole little garden, and went inside to allow my little plants to grow. When Read got home a couple of hours later, I excitedly told him I had planted the plants from his mom. He nodded and said he could tell I’d been working out there; what he didn’t say was that he hadn’t seen a single plant other than the tomato plant that looked smaller than before. The next morning I went outside to see all of my little columbine gone and my tomato plant chewed to a nub. A bunny had found a tasty snack in the tender shoots of my garden.

I quietly prayed that Bugs Bunny would meet with a sudden and pain-free demise and tried to salvage the remnants of my garden. I saved the tomato plant by putting a little bucket around it and spreading hair clippings in the dirt to deter the bunny, but the columbine were gone. One of the six flower seeds sprouted a beautiful pinkish zinnia. I filled in the end of the little plot where the columbine had been with some marigolds, and I was gardening again.

Because the days were so hot, I found it more pleasant to do things in my little garden in the evening and even after dark. Our next door neighbors would come home around 9:30 at night to see me out puttering around in the garden with Read sitting on the porch helping, encouraging, or just chatting with me. We joked with the neighbors about me being the midnight gardener, but I knew it would all be worth it when my flowers bloomed and we had gorgeous red tomatoes. Maybe we could even share a few with the neighbors next door…just to show them it was all worth it.

We faithfully watered that little garden through the worst of the hot, dry summer. We watched with pride as the tomato plant grew larger and larger. By the first of July, it had pretty yellow blooms. I had begun planning all of the things I was going to make with the tomatoes that would come from my healthy tomato plant. It started crawling onto our driveway and into my marigolds, while weighing heavily on my zinnias, but it would all be worth it when we had those juicy, ripe tomatoes.

Six weeks later, the plant was still covered in pretty yellow blooms. It made a nice green backdrop for the rest of the garden…if you don’t mind that overgrown, jungleish look. The problem was, we hadn’t gotten a single tomato off of that plant. After doing some online research, I found out that my plant had blossom drop; the blossoms drop off before a tomato can grow from it. This can be caused by too much heat, too much cold, too much watering, not enough watering, lack of fertilizer, too much fertilizer… Well, pick your website, they had a different reason for my blossom drop. The fact was, we had no fruit from our labor.

Finally, I decided that I had had it with the tomato plant. I was tired of it looking like a runaway shrub. It no longer appeared to be a cute, friendly little shrub; it looked like a rebellious vine that wanted to take over my garden, our lawn, and our home as it defied me without fruit. I resolutely took some sheers and started pruning my tomato plant. It was great therapy (and only $1.50 from Walmart). I cut back that mass of green with a vengeance, telling myself that the folks in the neighborhood probably hadn’t even noticed my failure at growing the simple fruit. As I clipped and shaped, I had myself convinced that most folks would think it was just a bush that had needed a bit of trimming. After all, it had some pretty yellow flowers on it, and it was right there with the rest of my plants. I finished pruning and plopped down on the porch steps next to Read to admire my work. Surely no one would notice the mishap in my garden; they would simply admire my success at growing flowers.

Just as I had convinced myself that I had squeaked by without notice, our neighbors pulled into their driveway and began unloading their car. We exchanged pleasantries with them and wished them a good evening. Just as the fellow was walking inside, he nodded to me and said, “Have you gotten any tomatoes off that plant yet?”