On Many Subjects

I bought two Aerogardens(TM) and thought I would try my hand at urban gardening.

The flowers I planted were a quantifiable disaster because apparently I have a cat that loves to dine on "Salad." So, she would munch on my poseys before they actually bloomed and the plant would subsequently die. The only thing she left alone was the petunias. OK. Maybe my salad-eating cat has a discriminating palate.

For round two of gardening, I planted (if it can be called planting when one is growing flowers and veggies hydroponically) a tomato and a trio of bean plants. First, just getting the beans to germinate was a Herculean task, but they did decide to grow. And, you guessed it, my salad-eating cat loves beans.

So, to keep the cat away from the single remaining bean plant that was only half-eaten by my furry health-food nut, my brother rigged a Rube Goldberg contraption designed to keep the cat way from the Aerogardens. It consists of a fruit bowl (sans fruit) and several pieces of driftwood gathered from the shores of Chesapeake Bay. I guess a guy's gotta have a hobby.

Despite the dodgy appearance of the deterrant, it does keep the cat away from the bean plant. Now for the farm report:

Brother: So, how does your garden grow?
Me: You mean like Mary, Mary, quite contrary?
B: Actually, I was wondering if we are seeing any results?
Me: Actually, yes. We have ten tiny tomatoes and one bean.
B: One bean?
Me: That's what I said. One bean. It is about 2 inches long.
B: So, when the tomatoes ripen, we will need to break out the china dishes and the good silver.
Me: Why?
B: We will put a tomato on the plate and carefully cut it with a knife and fork. Eat it slowly, to savor every moment.
Me: That's a bit sentimental.
B: No, it's not sentiment. We could have made a trip to Europe on what it has cost to grow ten tiny tomatoes and one bean.
Me: That's not true. We could have probably only made it as far as Denver. Besides, it's not about the cost of growing ten tiny tomatoes and one bean. It is the experience of being a real urban farmer. I feel like I have accomplished something.
B: If we have to live on your urban farm, we are going to starve to death.
Me: Yes, I realize that, Mr. I-haven't-caught-a-fish-or-a-crab-in-a-month.
B: Oh, now that is just chilly! You got a mean-steak.
Me: I wouldn't be a bit surprised.