Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Green with avocado envy

As part of my Valentine's Day gift, Andrew set up raised beds for an herb garden for me.

Cilantro. It's over 5 feet tall now.

I love my herb garden. When I'm cooking, I can wander out to my garden, trim what I need, wash it, and throw it in my food. It's more flavorful than it's overpriced, store-bought counterparts, too, so that's an extra bonus.

I should also mention that I do ZERO upkeep on this garden. Not my department, folks. I'm just the little woman, doing the cooking. I don't know anything about watering, weeding, and whatnot.

As part of the "garden upgrade" (which also included 4 different breeds of tomatoes), I had requested a pair of avocado trees, since Summer Winds has mature ones and we could have avocados in two years. Or less. TWO YEARS. 

Raised beds were assembled, herbs were planted, tomatoes were caged. Alas, where were my avocados? I assumed that Andrew would plant them later, since the raised beds were a weekend-long project, start-to-finish.

Weeks passed, and no avocados were planted. The word "avocado" never passed Andrew's lips. Had he forgotten?!

A friend of mine posted on Facebook that her little avocado tree was going to have a small yield this year. A tree that they got from Summer Winds. You could say that it brought out my inner green-eyed-and-avocado-flavored jealous side.

Last night, I turned to Andrew and was subtle. You know, like I'm known for.

"What's the story with my avocado trees?" I asked him, straight out.

"Where do you want to put them?" Andrew asked.

(It's worth mentioning that on our small plot of land, our little piece of suburbia, we have a dozen fruit trees, all which came included with our house.)

"I don't know. What about taking out the tree that doesn't have fruit and put them there?" I suggested.

"You want to put avocado trees, which need a LOT OF direct sunlight, in the part of the yard that gets basically NO sunlight," Andrew pointed out.

"Hm, " I thought for a moment, "How about we rip out the stupid mimosa tree and put the avocados there?"

"What?! What's wrong with the mimosa tree?" Andrew asked.

"It's messy. And it doesn't actually produce any mimosas," I answered.

"Maybe it needs another mimosa tree to make mimosas," Andrew suggested.

Just another night in our house.


  1. We have a family friend, Matt, who is originally from south TX. Every few months, he'll come back from a visit, completely weighed down with various fruits, veggies, and even honey. My mom's favorite is avocados. Eventually, I'm not entirely sure how, she got the idea to grow an avocado tree from the pitt of one of the ones Matt brought up for her. She stuck toothpicks in it and submerged part of it in water, and left it on our counter for a few weeks. Every time Matt would come over, he'd tease her about it. While we know there's no way that an avocado tree could survive the winters up here (North TX), my mom managed to get her little trees up to waist level. They're still in pots so she can bring them inside if it gets cold, but she enjoys throwing it in Matt's face that she managed to grow them period.

  2. I see no flaw in your logic. Mimosa trees SHOULD make mimosas.

  3. I am jealous of the possibility of avocado trees. They totally would not grow in Iowa. We do have tomatoes, various peppers, eggplant, and cabbage in our garden though.


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