Vegetable Lustiness

This fall I was visiting the Picasso Exhibit in Seattle, and one of the narrations on the audio guide described a self portrait of the artist as exuding overall lustiness.  I have since been anxiously awaiting ANY conversation in which I can drop the word into, and today I succeeded… sort of. Does it count if you use the word referring to yourself? Because I’m sure I was exuding quite a bit of lustiness towards our ordering of vegetable seeds at work today… (don’t judge me)

I think it is probably fair to say that all of us were experiencing some seed lust (which really isn’t as dirty as it sounds). At the end, we had selected 55 types of vegetables, 27 types of flowers, and 18 herbs that we were all pretty convinced we (and our customers) couldn’t live without.  Thankfully, our boss was able to lend an editing eye, as she pointed out that we probably didn’t really need four different types of chard, but we were able to hold onto the five different varieties of sweet peas. 

As an apartment dweller, I have to garden vicariously through my parents and co-workers… I have a few containers on my porch, but as I am looking at new apartments, it is anyone’s guess as to what sort of growing space I might have this summer. The second we started ordering seeds I forgot about yesterday’s Loft Apartment tragedy, and again became wistful over the idea of land and open spaces. Visions of raised beds and gourmet vegetables were dancing through my head. It also doesn’t help that I just started reading “The Dirty Life” which is all about a New York Journalist who meets a famer, falls in love, and gives up city life for farming with her husband. As she describes her rustically charming farmer, who seduces her with gourmet cooking, you cannot help but hate and envy her at the same time. Excuse me, but where is my dream lover making me a salad of watermelon radishes and pomegranate seeds? This doesn’t really happen in real life, does it? I have yet to find it, but at least I know that someone out there has… in the meantime, please god, can we order the watermelon radishes? (I don’t even like radishes, but the way in which they were described in this book was pure food porn)

My current apartment has a giant yard… giant and full of nothing but grass. I tried to broach the topic of raised beds with my landlord, thinking that if anything it would raise the property value… who doesn’t like vegetable gardens? Especially since the house I live in is set up in three separate apartments. This house will always be an apartment (three separate entrances, three separate kitchens) I realize we are all on a month to month lease, and I can understand the hassle of inheriting a garden that your tenants left you… sort of (I mean really, the very thought of someone leaving me a garden full of heirloom vegetables doesn’t really seem like a problem!) I’d be willing to sign a release form, or some sort of legal document agreeing to take all responsibility for the removing of said vegetable garden before moving out (unless the other tenants were crop sharing). My landlord tried to appease me by telling me it would be fine if I wanted to grow a few things in pots… She probably felt my eye-roll through e-mail… as my porch is covered in nothing but pots full of vegetables, flowers, and herbs… So much to the point where she instructed me that I should not put any more planters out… It seemed futile to try to describe to her how it was  hard enough to grow pole beans and cucumbers out of a container… let alone leeks, potatoes, tomatillos, and a all the other vegetables that I am lusting after…

I am gardener, trapped in an apartment dwellers body… and I am full of vegetable lustiness.