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A Casual Gardener

Plump, juicy tomatoes, warm off the vine. Just the thought of them is enough to make my mouth water and my stomach growl. My haphazard, poorly planned garden this year is heavy on tomato plants, with 5 varieties (Roma, Early Girl, Best Boy, “Patio”, and Grape) taking up a large chunk of my greenscape. I’m already counting my baby fruit (27 as of this morning, ranging from pea sized to golf ball), although they’re still weeks from harvest.

I found space for a few pepper plants when I planted as well, and will have a nice variety come summer. Sweet bell in several colors, and enough hot chili peppers to keep me in salsa for months. A hanging herb garden has flourished out by the pool, where I planted several baskets of Parsley, Sage, Dill, and Thyme. (If I’d been thinking musically I would have put the Rosemary out there between the Sage and Thyme, instead of on the windowsill with the Basil. Maybe next planting season?)

I’m not an every year gardener. There have been more than a few years that spring sweeps by before I can get plants in the ground. In the heat of Florida, if it isn’t in the ground by April it probably won’t have much of a chance to get going before the heat and the bugs win the battle. This year I was happy to not only get my greenery going, but to add something new to my tomato-pepper-herb medley.

This year, I’ve planted citrus. A rather dried out, stunted looking plant (cue up the Charlie Brown Christmas music, maestro) caught my eye in the nursery, and before I could say “frost line” I’d tucked it into my cart with barely a glimpse at the tag. “Key Lime”, it said. Cool – I’m a fan of limes. They go great with Margaritas and Corona, and those drinks are both staples on my summer menu.

But what do I do with a Key Lime tree? I wasn’t really sure. First of all, I needed to find a permanent planting spot for it. The rest of my garden is all container grown; trees – with a few exceptions – need to be in the ground to set roots. And deciding where to plant a tree is a heavy decision, I realized when I came home. The front yard was out – we’re back door people, and I’m pretty sure putting the tree in the front would become an “out of sight, out of mind” situation. But the back yard, while large, doesn’t have a lot of places that are good tree sites. Jokingly I told my sister that I should plant it outside my bathroom window, so I could pick the fruit while I showered (citrus juice is a great natural hair conditioner), but I don’t think my neighbors would enjoy that nearly as much as I would.

So I watered my baby citrus tree in its pot, but didn’t actually plant it. For a month, it has sat next to the pepper containers, getting healthy doses of water and sunshine and thriving. But this morning, it was obvious even to my casual gardener eye that this tree was outgrowing its pot.

I finally settled on a spot, possibly too close to the pool, which means a few years from now we may be bobbing for fruit in a really big basin. But the site has the perfect mixture of sandy soil, sunshine, and proximity to both the house and the hose so I don’t forget to water it. My shovel bit easily into that soft soil, and it took me less than five minutes to transfer my little experiment into the ground. Two tags were lurking down in the branches, and I took the time to pull them off before I put away my shovel. And that was when I got a surprise.

One tag said “Key Lime”. One said “Meyer Lemon”. When I take a moment to look at the tree closely, it has a very obvious difference between the two halves.

So what have I got here? It took some creative Googling, but I think what I have is called a “Cocktail Tree”. Two trees, either both grafted onto one rootstock, or one graft and one rootstock.

I like mixing things together. I like some peanut butter with my chocolate, the scent of lavender with eucalyptus, some beer with my tequila, and lilies with my daisies. The thought of lemons and limes on the same tree makes me a bit more excited for my gardening this year.

I can’t wait for my tomatoes to be ready to eat, and for my first batch of garden grown salsa. But I’m looking farther into the future this planting. It can take 3-4 years for a grafted tree to bear fruit, so my curiosity about my tree may have a long time to grow. I’ll have several seasons to speculate, and many tomato plants to grow while I wait.

But when that tree finally has its first harvest this casual gardener will be ready for the harvest.