As of Friday my life has changed. I now belong to a brotherhood shared with the likes of John Deere, my grandfather Sylvester "Butch" Bordewick, and Jennifer Gardner . . . I think. For I am now a farmer.
On Friday I threw out my old, dead Ikea hanging plant I'd previously killed despite it's "easy to care for" label, and planted fresh, nubile radish seeds. Now, in 4 short weeks, I will be feasting on - or at least garnishing drinks and dishes with - tasty radishes like the kings of ole. I'd post pictures, but at this point it just looks like a pot of dirt. This is one of the cases when a picture is not worth 1000 words. Imagine a pot. Now imagine that the pot is full of dirt. That's exactly what it looks like.
I've placed my pot-o-dirt in the bathroom so it's now self-watering via reverse osmosis of shower steam (Thanks 10th Grade Biology!) I realize that "Bathroom Radish" doesn't sound like the most appetizing dish. In fact, "Bathroom Radish" sound more like a slang term for an STD you'd pick up from a public toilet seat than something you'd eat, but the thought of eating a non-bathroom radish is not very appetizing either. Radishes are always the last thing left on the vegetable tray at a party, and the vegetable tray is always the last thing left after the other food is eaten. The radish is the last of the last. Poor Radish is the last kid picked at recess. Or worse, Radish is the kid who's last picked and then the captain of the team who should have him says, "You can have Radish" like he's doing the other team a favor. In reality, he knows that his team is stronger being one man short than having even numbers if one of them is Radish. Poor Radish.
Really, the only redeeming quality of the radish is it's name. Rad-ish. I bet a lot of unfunny-funny people in the 80's used that as a regular pun.
For my astute readers, you may have noticed that I have already killed a plant this year. True. Apparently, if you have three plants and you leave them unattended in a freezing cold, dark flat for three weeks while you gallivant around the United Sates by the time you get home: one of them will commit suicide, another will look fairly sick, and the third will not have noticed you've ever left. It's okay though, these circumstances will most likely lead you to being a popular radish farmer.
Fact about me #66
I've never grown anything . . . before now.