Things I can not grow
- asparagus
- beetroot
- corn
- coriander
- cucumbers
- echinacea
- lemons
- lettuces
- pumpkins
- strawberries
- zucchini
Things I can grow
- basil (sometimes)
- borage
- broad beans
- broccoli
- calendula
- chickens (sometimes)
- children
- chillis
- daikon radishes
- kang kong
- lemongrass
- mustard greens
- olives
- parsley
- rocket
- spring onions
- tomatoes (sometimes)
- yarrow
- sunflowers
Thoughts on the above
Zucchinis and cucumbers are easy to grow, apparently, but you have to watch out for rats. The rats love them. It could be a good thing I have had no luck with curcubits to date.
As for lettuces, I have tried to grow four different varieties, to no avail. They panic and go to seed straight away.
The chickens. I let them roam free for hours in a day. It is conceivable that they may cause damage to root systems with their digging. The chickens could also be scaring the plants to early seed. I should look into this.
I read somewhere that certain plants send chemical messages via their roots if they are under attack, to warn other, similar plants. Come to think of it, that article was in relation to trees. I wonder if smaller plants have developed the same early warning system.
Are the surrounding trees sending warning signals to my vegetables?
Maybe the soil is not ideal. I’ve tested the pH. Slightly basic. That’s meant to be good for greens and most vegies.
The vegie beds do get a lot of sun. Too much?
Most of the plants with which I have had success can be used in Asian recipes. But I haven’t been able to grow coriander. And I love coriander. Am I planting at the wrong time of year?
I am having success with bitter greens.
Ginger is something we use a lot of in this house. I would dearly love to grow ginger. I tried to grow it once and the dog dug it up. I was upset when the dog dug up the ginger. I was more upset when the dog died.
Corn is meant to be easy to grow. I think it’s strange I can not grow corn. Isn’t it strange that I can not grow corn, yet I can grow children? Or maybe, like the morning glory whose tendrils spring up on our every fence-bound horizon, the children are growing themselves.
thirtyseven 