It's official. I have a black thumb.
I suspected as much when I was unsuccessful in my attempts to grow carrots. And cucumbers. And basil. Easy crops, by all accounts.
But, ignoring my past failures, I eagerly forged ahead with my plans to grow my very own pumpkins this year. And for much of the season, I had reason to be optimistic. I varied my methods, starting some indoors and some outdoors. Some behind the house and some beside it. Some horizontally and some vertically. And many of the seeds germinated. Those were exciting days in the pumpkin patch.
They grew quickly at first. Dare I say thrived.
Big, bright, orange flowers appeared. Vines began to stretch and climb and attach themselves to anything in their path.
And then, it all seemed to stop. Plant growth slowed to a barely noticeable pace. Flowers still appeared. But they were never followed by the anxiously anticipated pumpkins. None. Not one.
Where had it all gone wrong? Not enough sun? Not enough water? Too much water? In an effort to identify the problem, I began to read up on pumpkin plants. I learned some amazing things. Like how to distinguish male flowers from female flowers. A quick inspection revealed that all the flowers currently on my plants were male. None sat on the little "thrones" that would eventually grow into pumpkins. Was that even possible?
Then I began seeing photos of the rapidly-growing pumpkins of other, more successful gardeners. Hearing tales of pumpkins simply growing randomly from last fall's dropped seeds. Accidentally. With little or no effort required. My sadness was complete.
So it appears that I'll once again be purchasing my pumpkins. But in the words of the ever-optimistic Linus Van Pelt: "Just wait until next year!" A new strategy is already being plotted.
I suppose I should be thankful I don't live in an era in which people relied on their own crops for survival. The law of natural selection would have disposed of me years ago.
I suspected as much when I was unsuccessful in my attempts to grow carrots. And cucumbers. And basil. Easy crops, by all accounts.
But, ignoring my past failures, I eagerly forged ahead with my plans to grow my very own pumpkins this year. And for much of the season, I had reason to be optimistic. I varied my methods, starting some indoors and some outdoors. Some behind the house and some beside it. Some horizontally and some vertically. And many of the seeds germinated. Those were exciting days in the pumpkin patch.
They grew quickly at first. Dare I say thrived.
Big, bright, orange flowers appeared. Vines began to stretch and climb and attach themselves to anything in their path.
And then, it all seemed to stop. Plant growth slowed to a barely noticeable pace. Flowers still appeared. But they were never followed by the anxiously anticipated pumpkins. None. Not one.
Where had it all gone wrong? Not enough sun? Not enough water? Too much water? In an effort to identify the problem, I began to read up on pumpkin plants. I learned some amazing things. Like how to distinguish male flowers from female flowers. A quick inspection revealed that all the flowers currently on my plants were male. None sat on the little "thrones" that would eventually grow into pumpkins. Was that even possible?
Then I began seeing photos of the rapidly-growing pumpkins of other, more successful gardeners. Hearing tales of pumpkins simply growing randomly from last fall's dropped seeds. Accidentally. With little or no effort required. My sadness was complete.
So it appears that I'll once again be purchasing my pumpkins. But in the words of the ever-optimistic Linus Van Pelt: "Just wait until next year!" A new strategy is already being plotted.
I suppose I should be thankful I don't live in an era in which people relied on their own crops for survival. The law of natural selection would have disposed of me years ago.
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