An Amateur Farmer

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My dear husband thinks of himself as a farmer, an amateur farmer is more like it or at best, he pretends to be one for a few minutes. If he had his way, he would be planting anything and everything he lands his hands on in terms of seed. Eat a mango, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat an avocado, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat a banana, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat an apple, let me have it so I can plant it. Eat a pineapple, let me have it so I can plant it. At rate he drives it sometimes, we would have a supermarket on a backyard but instead, we ended up having dead leaves camp ground from the avocado and mango trees and a seed “graveyard” village in my kitchen counter, until my dapper self decided that I had had enough one day, piled all and tucked them away in a box to later finding lifeless bodies, laying around, waiting for their burial procession. Yes, the seeds seem to have metamorphosed or crawled back to life on their own somehow.

The entertaining part of this, is not him planting or piling them up but the fact that there isn’t much land for his mini escapades and based on the picture below, how will he know which one is which? The space is limited in our neck of the hood. We live in a square box. Walk this way and you hit the wall, walk back that way and you hit the fence. So, in the spirit of marital bliss, I just blink my eyes and look up to the skies but then again, I don’t do well with the outside, lizards have me at hello, even though I love nature. Does it make any sense at all?

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Another impertinent factor blowing up our fuses, they really put me in a “joyful” mood every time I think about them, are possums. They took possession and roam around  the area as if they own it. He stopped planting tomatoes and shoved the idea of a state of the art garden down the pipe, hint hint wishful thinking, when we woke up one day and saw them on the ground, taking their last breathes and looking more like tomato paste then fruits, to later finding the perpetuator after recruiting Dick Tracy to hunt for whodunnit. It wasn’t an easy task but after careful and exhaustive investigation, we were led to the animal strolling quietly with its teeth out, unapologetically gunning for more. The nerve!

There are successes to report, however, in the midst of the insanity. We now have an avocado and a mango tree, this one  trying to introduce herself but is unable to because of my dear husband’s “knowledge” of the subject matter. Trust me, it is another interesting witty story, one for the books of “what were you thinking” which I leave for another day but I will give you this much, it has to do with space and big trees. So, without further ado, I present you one fruit that has withstand it all, the weather, possums, aunts, location, dead avocado and mango leaves, the pineapple. It is stunning and smells divine. Tasty? I don’t know, I haven’t tried it yet. It better be good.

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The little green tree standing tall behind the pineapple, moringa. We are on our way. Farmer’s market here we come!

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