Intuitive, Counter-Intuitive and the Irony of Gardening

My mother drilled certain behavioral lessons into our psyche, starting when we were very young. One that has stuck with me is, “Don’t blow your own horn!” No bragging, boasting, or puffing of the chest. Not only is it bad manners, but you may be setting yourself up for embarrassment or humiliation at some future point. Sorry Mom, but a little brag, I have good intuition and instincts about people. A trait I probably inherited from my mother.

During my insurance career, I’ve hired several assistants, and they’ve all been terrific. I mentored them the way I was mentored. If you want to advance in your career, teach your subordinates everything, so no one can ever use the excuse that “you’re too valuable to promote, we need you in your current position.”

However, my mother was right about the potential for being humbled. My small currant tomatoes have been so prolific that I needed to get on my hands and knees to dig into the plants to harvest them. My intuition told me that they would be easier to spot, as they belong on the outside of the branches looking for the sun. I am wrong! I have learned that as skillful as my intuition is about people, it has been humbled in the garden

My San Marzano and Moscovitch tomatoes have miraculously begun to ripen. Using my great intuition, I started pruning the branches so the tomatoes could have the sun beating on them to speed up the ripening. I hadn’t learned from all the digging in the current tomato bushes that there might be a reason they were hiding from the sun.

Counterintuitive for sure. After a Google search, I learned that tomatoes ripen better without direct sun. They thrive in the warm shade so they can release ethene, a gas that speeds up the ripening process. My new project is to try and move the remaining branches to cover where I pruned to protect the ripening tomatoes from the sun.

When we moved from New York to Tucson, Arizona, I was starting my second year of high school. An already tough adjustment was made worse when I discovered I didn’t like the desert. The seasons are hot, hotter, and flash floods. I also did not find beauty in the gray pebble lawns that blend into gray pebble sidewalks, that blend into the grayed down asphalt in the streets.

When it came time for me to choose a college, I immediately chose Northern Arizona University, in Flagstaff, surrounded by mountains, trees, traditional seasons, and cactus-free landscapes.

The flower boxes in front of our restaurant are home to thriving pepper plants (no peppers). I have purchased and repurchased various plants for the tables and interior decor. Ironically, the only plants I haven’t killed are a variety of prickly succulents. I have yet to develop an affinity for these tiny cacti.

Adding to the irony of my cactus success, the healthiest are the Easter cactus and the Christmas cactus. Considering that I am Jewish and celebrate neither of those holidays, I do think Mother Nature gets some true satisfaction from tormenting me, or she just has a prickly sense of humor.

Meanwhile, I have made three batches of tomato sauce, so- Take that, Mother Nature!