THE GAMBLER IN ME

I'm in pain. Withdrawal pains I suppose. Can't stop worrying about what might be going on in the garden back in Wimberley. What if I miss out on seeing the lavender bloom for the first time in four years? It was just beginning to get a tinge of color when I left. What if those little eyelash-sized beans, that were just making an appearance, have all disappeared by the time I get back? What if marauding horn-worms have defoliated my tomatoes?

It's kind of amazing, when you think about it, how much pleasure it gives me to putter around out there each afternoon, even though I haven't harvested much that's edible yet -- especially when you consider how much I hated what my parents called "yard work" growing up! Just knowing that I might taste a peach or tomato grown by me one of these days, seems to be enough to keep me going. I'm sure many see all gardening as boring and tedious, but to me, it's a bit of an addiction.

In truth, you need to have the heart of a gambler, be a bit of a risk-taker, to love it. You just can't control Mother Nature. You can read every book, talk to all the old-timers, follow all the rules and advice, do things exactly the same each year, and still get completely different results every darn season. But, knowing that this next season might be "The One" -- the one where all the stars align just perfectly, the weather gods smile down upon you, all the pests decide to vacation elsewhere, and you finally succeed beyond your wildest dreams? Well, like anyone else who can't resist betting on the ponies or sitting in on a high-stakes poker game, that's what keeps you a-comin' back for more!