one hundred positives

My Mother was a wonderful gardener. She could grow anything. Me on the other hand... well, let’s just say I’m better at other things.

My Mom loved tomato plants and the endless varieties that were available. In the winter she spent hours examining what seemed like hundreds of seed catalogs, comparing variety options and prices. She had a hard time weeding her order down to a dozen or so different varieties of tomatoes. She made many wish lists before she placed her order with the seed company that would give her the best value and variety for her money.

When the seeds finally arrived, she was like a child on Christmas morning. There was something so absolutely beautiful about the look of complete joy in her eyes as she pulled the seed packs out of their wrapping.

She carried this same joy with her as she sowed the seeds into the separate rows of a starter tray. I swear that she had 10 green thumbs as every seed would burst forth with life in the specified time of germination listed on the seed pack. She always marveled at how such a tiny seed could produce life.

When the sprouts were large enough to be transplanted, each received it’s own white foam cup and popsicle stick marked with it’s variety and days until maturity information. There was one problem. Usually 20 or more seeds came in a pack and my Mom always ordered at least 12 different varieties of tomatoes, and every seed seemed to germinate, and every sprout received it’s own cup... so, you do the math. And that’s the total for just the tomato plants. She also planted many varieties of peppers, celery and eggplant (to name a few). Oh yeah, and then there were flowers...

This brings me to today and why this blog exists. My Mother suffered from major depression. Her illness clouded her sense of reasoning and reality. After the tomato plants were planted in their little white cups she transferred the responsibility of the care of these plants to her eight children. Now that would have been fine if each child was to be responsible for two or three plants, but 30 plants was a bit too much even for a child that enjoyed gardening. Her illness also twisted her thinking in that she couldn’t give the extra tomato plants away to other people because she feared these people wouldn’t return or recycle the empty cups or that they wouldn’t take proper care of the plants. So the majority of the plants never were transplanted into the ground where they could grow to maturity. Instead most of them perished in their little white cups.

I have always known that if my Mom didn’t suffer from major depression, she would have received great joy in the giving of her extra tomato plants to those who could use them. It is in her memory that I have planted 100 tomato plants in little white cups and it is in her honor that I give these 100 tomato plants to 100 people.