Each year, I try to grow a little something that we can eat. Thus far, it's been a miserable failure, and each time I think about gardening I think back to The Carrots. The measly carrots. *sigh*
But now we own our own house, and it came complete with a big ol' raised bed and a pile of compost. It seemed irresponsible to not even try to grow a few things.
So I planted some radishes a few weeks or so ago, and those buggers are just now starting to get ripe. And by "get ripe," I mean, get good and rooty. I mean, seriously, HOW DOES ONE KNOW WHEN A RADISH IS DONE?! The part you eat is underground!! Hellooooooo, creator of the universe, that is one messed up plan!
However, I noticed that a radish or two had started peeking above ground, so I quickly shuffled everyone outside for The Picking Of Our First Fruits. One radish had a good six inches of plant matter so surely we thought we were good to go. Wrong! Not two seconds after my boy plucked it out of the ground, I heard the hubs yelling, "IT'S TOO LITTLE! PUT IT BACK IN!!!"
I'm not sure what he thought was gonna happen while the preemie was out in the air. Start crying and demanding mom, I imagine. I checked back on that radish today and its six inches of greenery have wilted to the ground. Apparently you can't pull a radish out, stick it back in, and expect it to grow. Who knew.
So our first feast from the garden included two radishes. I cleaned them, split them five ways, and we all toasted each other during dinner with our radish bits held high. Celebrate the small things, you know.
Hubs keeps saying to me, "Plant more! Plant more! I want lots of stuff growing in our garden! A pile of radishes at the table!"
Later that night I picked up three bunches of radishes from the store, and the tookish side of me wanted to stick those things in the ground and see how quickly my man noticed my Gardening Prowess. Ha ha, I'll be the Queen of Radishes yet. Good and spicy.