The Mother's Day Miracle

I miss my mother. I especially miss her wicked sense of humor, her snarky remarks, and even her unsolicited wisdom, which was usually right and on point. As I matured, I learned that my mother was usually right, even if I didn’t always admit it to myself or to her.

Since my mother has passed away and I don’t have any children, Mother’s Day has become “just another day” to me, except as it applies to Waitsburg gardening.

I previously wrote that I didn’t understand a seemingly arbitrary gardening rule: not planting flowers, tomatoes, and delicate plants until after Mother’s Day. What is so miraculous about Mother’s Day? What is this ridiculous rule?

Because of my rebellious streak, I often go with the “rules are meant to be broken” philosophy. So, I planted before Mother’s Day, and I’ve become a believer.

The cucumbers and peppers succumbed to the cold and had to be replaced. A few tomatoes seem to be surviving, but they would probably be thriving had I just followed the rule and waited a few more days. I may know the right planting schedule, but rule-breaking and impatience are trademarks of mine, and I just can’t seem to hold off.

Somewhat miraculously (my perspective), but annoyingly (Daniel’s perspective), a few days after Mother’s Day, volunteer tomato plants started popping up all over. I am thrilled, but I’m sure Daniel will start yanking them out when he has the chance. But I want to wait to see what type they are. If they are the ones that are the size of peas or the thorny kind, I will help yank them out. But, If they are the tasty cherry tomatoes or the large accordions, I will leave with hopes that they flourish.

To balance my albeit reluctant adherence to the Mother’s Day rule, I have willingly broken every other rule of decorum in the garden. I have seeds planted all over, with no rhyme or reason. I decided to plant most of the lettuce seeds I have, so they have filled various nooks and crannies in the planters. I plan to have numerous heads of lettuce popping up all over the garden, and since I have planted them a few weeks apart, they should be going all season.

Along with the extra cucumber seeds I dumped in various planters, I decided to use up all my radish seeds so I may have radishes for the next century.

I have melons planted next to acorn squash; I just hope they don’t cross-pollinate. A few years ago, we had some weird squash varieties, which we eventually trashed.

Finally (the third time’s a charm), I see broccoli blooming instead of dying, and I may even have a cauliflower or two. Last year, I planted a dozen broccoli and cauliflower. The total harvest was one cauliflower. It was beautiful and gigantic but a loner.

Cabbages, like radishes, seem to be foolproof, and I should have a pretty good bounty. But I don’t know how the seed companies get away with: “fast-growing, thirty-day, or early harvest” descriptions. In my garden, they grow slowly, but at least it grows.

And though there is no corresponding Father’s Day planting rule, I feel obligated to honor my father by planting more seeds. I miss him, and I know he would be appreciative but surprised at my gardening efforts, especially since he hated gardening.