Top 10 Reasons Why I Would Make a Terrible Farmer

10. Uneducated assumption making principles. In October, I bought 4 seedlings - 2 tomatoes, 1 eggplant and 1 yellow pepper, which I assumed meant yellow bell pepper. 5 months later, I come to find that yellow pepper means any variety of peppers that are yellow (mine happens to be a hot banana pepper).
9. Poor purchasing decisions. When I bought my seedlings, I was thinking more about which vegetables are easy to grow and not so much about which vegetables I like to eat (I do like tomatoes). I am thankful every day for reason #4.
8. Lack of knowledge of common plant ailments. Case in point, I think that a tomato plant blight can be cured by watering it 50 times a day. Needless to say, only 1 tomato seedling survived.
7. Lack of knowledge of common garden pests. In late November, when I discovered that the leaves of my eggplant were half eaten, I cursed the chickens when I should have been hunting for the green worm of death, otherwise known as the very hungry caterpillar. We all know how that turned out.
6. Little weeding enthusiasm. I can't count the number of times I have come home from work to find the overgrown, prickly patch that I call my garden fully weeded and reinforced with growing posts, thanks to my very helpful neighbor (who, consequently, would probably make a very good farmer).
5. Bad tree-recognition ability. I have dozens of fruit trees in my yard, including an orange tree that I was overjoyed to share a space with. You can imagine my sadness upon moving in, when I noticed that the orange tree had no oranges on it. It wasn't until 4 weeks later, when my very helpful neighbors brought me a large bag of oranges from my tree, that I realized the tree I had previously thought to be my orange tree was, in fact, just a tree.
4. Little understanding of the fundamentals of plant growth. I was concerned that my monstrous eggplant was still eggplant-less, so I asked my very helpful neighbor for some gardening tips. She suggested that I pick the purple flowers that should be forming eggplants but were not and burn them in a corner of my yard. This, she said, would make the as-of-yet unformed purple flowers turn into eggplants. I think the logic is that by burning the unproductive flowers, you scare the future flowers into productivity. I actually considered doing this for about week, until reason took over. Although, I'm still eggplant-less.
3. Poor mistake-learnage. I also have another tree that I am just crazy about - the plumrose tree. For those of you who have not heard of the plumrose, it is a delicious and addictive phenomenon with the texture of a honeydew and the flavor of a sweetened rose. Again, try to imagine my disappointment when plumrose season came around and there were none to be found on my little tree. After waiting several weeks, I got to the point of desperation and bought a bag in town, which I immediately regretted, since, upon return to my domicile, I found that my very helpful neighbor had just left a full bag of them on my porch, picked from (can you guess?) my tree. Not only had I again mistaken tree identities, but the tree I thought to be my plumrose tree was the tree I originally thought was my orange tree. It's a sneaky and deceptive tree, I might cut it down.
2. Unrealistic problem solving strategies. I have a lime tree, which is not just a tree but actually has limes on it. About 2 months after I moved in, a thin but sturdy vine moved into the neighborhood and quickly established a cohabitation agreement with my lime tree. Instead of chopping it down, I hoped that the problem would sort itself out and I now have a lime tree that is so vine-y that limes can only grow on the top-most branches. Which means that everytime I want a lime, I have to throw rocks 25-feet into the air and hope that I hit one.
1. Poor garden planning skills. In late October, when my seedlings were still, well, seedlings, I decided to make a cute little garden in a small corner of my yard. 5 months later, my eggplant has grown to the size of a small baby elephant and is slowly killing my tomato via lack of direct sunlight.