TASTE

Someone once told me that it is very easy to garden in Houston. Proof that my thumb is black.

If I can’t make my plants thrive in this lush climate, there’s no way they’re thriving elsewhere. But to be fair, this is my first year of solo-gardening (I have no background in it other than my work at Waldingfield) and I don’t have a soil PH measure. For all intents and purposes, it’s going OK. But then again, my intents and purposes include basil, some rosemary and a hydrangea or two. I am far from producing anything but decorations and a salad-topper.

Now that I see the challenges posed by worms, thunderstorms and 100 degree heat, I recognize how extraordinary the work of some of these urban farmers / gardeners is. At yesterday’s farmer’s market, I was blown away by the heaps of available blackberries. But the ripe, ogle-able clusters (first of the season) had obviously taken a lot of effort to harvest. One purveyor’s arms looked like they’d suffered attacks by a mad cat. The other farmer lounged in the back of the pick-up, nearly overcome by heat exhaustion.

Meanwhile, I took a few samples, bought a few boxes, and left sated with blackberry blood upon my lips.

This post is dedicated to the successful urban farmers who grow, forage and collect things both wonderful and strange within the concrete confines of Houston. These intrepid gardeners are turning cracks in concrete into flowering orchards, one bramble at a time. As someone who recognizes her own heat-related frailty and puny gardening skills, I am really impressed, not to mention grateful.