Going Chuck Norris on my Garden

For eight years, I have been trying to grow zucchini in my garden. Every year, I hear other gardeners boasting :“We have so much zucchini that we pay people to take it from us! I mean, buckets and buckets!” And then I imagine punching the person in the solar plexus, and I am not a violent person. Apparently, I am a violent gardener.  

I have grown exactly two measly zucchini in 8 years. My plants consistently suffer from root rot, alien grubs, and general wilting. I’ve even tried saying positive affirmations to the plant stalks, you know, like a Kindergarten teacher: “Come on! You can do it! I believe in you!” And the plants promptly die. Fuckers.


How my garden looks in my BRAIN.

This year, I am determined, yet again, to have a garden. Last year, I had lovely green shoots of fresh peas and green beans growing. I tenderly gave them netting to grow and cling to and imagined wearing white and fluttering in my garden picking my cornucopia of fresh vegetables while birds landed on my shoulders and random beavers said hello to me. (Yes. I dreamed of beavers.)

Then a fucking evil rabbit consumed all those lovely tendrils, we had a drought, meteors fell from the sky, and it snowed in July. There went my garden.


I am determined this year. This year will be different! I will have so much green stuff that I’ll force it onto my neighbors and say: “Take that, beotch!”


I’ve been flipping through catalogs circling soil testing stuff, and seeds, and sprouts, and all sorts of things.


This morning I asked the kids for their help. “So, what do you guys think we should do about that rabbit in our yard?”


Franz, 8, immediately spoke up: “See, what we do is we get some gear on and a tranquilizer gun and we wait for that rabbit to show up and BLAM! We hit it with the gun and put it in a cage and toss it in a…”

Moxie, 7, began to cry. At first, I considered Franz’s idea, but then I thought maybe I was getting a little too commando with my gardening. It is, after all, supposed to be a gentle and loving thing.


“Maybe we’ll just have Kealoha spread blood meal all over to freak the rabbit out.”

Moxie said, “What’s blood meal?”


I said, “Uhhh…”


I’m back to the catalog, dreaming.


Someone please tell me the secret to growing zucchini before I go all Terminator Rambo Chuck Norris on my yard.

Me. In my gardening gear.