A green thumb I am not, but I’m going to get a pepper out of it

I love working from my front porch.

Like I’ve said many times before, if a place has wireless, I can pretty much do my job of cranking out newspaper stories.

The current situation of writing outside on the porch has a limited shelf life. It won’t be long and sitting outside in the South Dakota sun and humidity gets to be too much. But right now, it’s a joy to listen to the birds, watch the rabbits and squirrels with a fresh cup of coffee as I stare over my laptop.

I just wish I were even somewhat talented, or knowledgeable, when it came to landscaping and gardening.

I have to say, we have a beautiful front yard. It radiates with color every spring, and those colors change throughout the summer as the seasons change. It’s a sea of purple right now, but when August rolls around, it’s dynamic reds and yellows throughout our front yard.

The entire yard is masterfully thought out, and it’s not uncommon for people walking by to stop and gaze at our front yard wonderland.

I’m proud of it. Problem is, I had nothing to do with it.

The homeowners before us clearly had a green thumb. Their landscaping talents are proven each spring as the perennials they planted and mapped out come back as lively as ever in April.

My only job – only job – is to pull the weeds and throw some mulch down each spring.

“Front yard is looking great,” a passerby said to me last week as I muscled a wheelbarrow full of mulch.

I told them thank you, chatted with them for a minute, and stood proudly over the colors. In the back of my mind though, I knew it wasn’t me. 

It’s a chore, maintaining someone else’s vision. Plus, and I know this sounds weaker than weak, but that mulch gets heavier and heavier each spring.

The backyard is a little different. It’s not nearly the eye-catching landscape that covers the front. I don’t mind though – it’s a little lighter on the knees.

I do have two raised vegetable gardens in the back. Now that one, I can take credit for. I started those babies from scratch, and over the last five years I’ve nurtured those gardens every day.

I water them, fertilize them, and de-weed them. Hell, I even talk to them. But despite the watering, feeding and encouragement, my lack of gardening skills truly comes through each fall when it’s harvest time.

The tomatoes do OK, but I think everybody’s tomatoes do OK. I plant four tomato plants each spring, and by August, I’ve got enough yield to make H.J. Heinz blush.

It’s the peppers that have me perplexed. For the past five years, I’ve planted my fair share of pepper plants. And it’s a wide range. I’ve planted green, yellow, red, jalapeno, banana, poblano and cherry. But every…single…year, I get nothing.

Seriously, my pepper plants grow like mad. They get tall, they look fantastic, they look so fantastic that I truly think they’re proud of themselves with how tall they get. But, and I mean this, they never – ever – produce a damn pepper.

Maybe it’s rabbits that are eating the peppers before I can fend them off, and not my inability to produce one. I’m going with that.

But, I guess I enjoy it because I planted peppers again this year. My two vegetable gardens have a sign hanging above them that reads SAVAGE’S VALLEY VIEW. It’s a sign that hung above my mom and dad’s house between Sioux Falls and Brandon for years.

Last year I grew some onions and cilantro as well. The yield wasn’t bountiful, but I had enough tomatoes, onions and cilantro to make some pico de gallo. It was literally one small bowl I had last September. I was proud of it, until I realized that one bowl probably cost me about $100. 

But still, proud nonetheless. 

If I get lucky this year and could possibly get a pepper out of the deal, look out Savage kitchen: the pico de gallo this September will be fancied up for sure.

At least for one bowl.