Garden eulogy, spring dream

Each spring brings the gardener’s dream – hope for a harvest of plump and tasty tomatoes.

Each summer brings portents of disappointment. How else to read those shriveling leaves and spindly vines whose occasional, accidental toms disappear into the stomachs of furry or feathered or six-legged yard fauna?

And fall – even in Louisiana where fall resembles nothing so much as summer – brings the final resignation. I gave up last week. The remnants of my two tomato plants, the moderately productive cherry and the worthless mooch of an heirloom, landed in the compost heap.

Another bad year in my tomato patch. Like every year before. Permit me this boast: I farm badly brilliantly well.

So why do I rejoice?

The pepper plants, my bounty of 2021.

The six cayenne plants clawed themselves to only 18 to 24 inches tall. But they’ve yielded hundreds of fruits, with more still to ripen.

The single jalapeno plant was initially stingy, producing just four peppers through early September. Since then? Ten more!

So, we wait for the coming spring. Because even an incompetent farmer must dream.