So? That’s what many of you reading this will be thinking, as well as “why not?” and “everybody should have a vegetable garden!” And “why is this a big deal?” And, maybe, “what’s wrong with her?”

But you don’t understand. This is very much like—no, it’s worse than—when your 7-year-old comes home with the cute little kitten or puppy. “Oh, c’mon, can I keep it! I’ll take care of it!” It’s worse than that because no such promises are being made, just a lot of statements and questions that indicate less than no knowledge of any kind of gardening, much less edible gardening.

I believe the idea is to do something productive in these uncertain times. So if we both lose our jobs, we’ll still have our vegetables. Or something. Maybe it’s some vague notion that we can eke out edible rewards from the small urban property into which we have poured 10 years worth of resources. (More than thousands of bushels of tomatoes and beans could equal.)

Here are the questions I have faced so far: 

Why won’t vegetables come back every year? What did the Native Americans do? Weren’t the Three Sisters already growing all the time? I don’t want to replant everything every year.

How can I plant them so I don’t have to bend down at all?

Which ones will start producing right away? I don’t want to wait until August.

Which ones are easiest to plant and care for? Which will produce the most harvest for the longest?

Which are the most versatile for meals?

Do I really have to water every day?

Color is important—I want lots of different colors. Which vegetables are most like flowers?

These are the questions—most not unreasonable—of someone who thinks you plant a vegetable garden and get lots of vegetables. I have planted and failed many times with various edibles, but it’s fine for me because I expect failure. I realize that gardening is mainly about failure. I accept it. Indeed, I embrace it.  But I can’t say that.

So there will be a vegetable garden. It will be squeezed into a thin sunny patch on the side of the garage. I will do my best to offer guidance and help choose the plants most liable to succeed. I will troubleshoot. But I don’t want this to be my puppy.

I’m sort of dreading the spring. Maybe—an adventure?