Kale and I

I bought a $3 seedling of Dino kale at the farmers market right after moving to our new place in SLO. It looked like it had a solid genetic base, something I was looking for considering the rough life it was about to experience. Kale is turning one soon.

I have a mild case of hortophilia. I scratched my gardening itch a few times with various degrees of satisfaction. I had dreams of kale for a long time. I tried growing some from the seed back in Berkeley, a place where everything grows. My full batch of seeds never broke ground and got taken over by the arugula I planted aside. I ate arugula for a whole year, it was a monster that cannibalized all my raised beds.

From the gardens of the Berkeley hills to SLO I had many occasions to contemplate kale plants with stems the size of a tree trunk. I want one like this. I know it will be a process. I’m clueless about it but deep inside, the seed is here.

I gave the new kale a good start. A very large pot, the fanciest soil I could find at Home Depot, and have been watering it religiously for a few months. The spring fueled a pleasing growth spurt. I was so happy. The beginner's first wins got me excited. I even harvested and ate some. Shaving the bottom leaves and seeing the plant grow was satisfying. By the end of April, I started to take it for granted - this is it. I got my dream kale. He is going to grow, forever.

Aphids arrived as the weather warmed up. With the pesticide spraying around the neighborhood all pests flocked to the plants on patios. I did my best to spray them off with water and swore to relocate him to the balcony someday (when the kids won't be a greater menace than aphids). The swarm of aphids kept coming but didn’t kill him, it did kill the neighboring pot of cabbage I rescued from a sale at Whole Foods. Spraying off the aphid was weirdly emotional, like changing the diaper of a sick kid.

Warmer days, blinding sun, and sweat breaking at 10 am: the summer seasonal affective disorder was coming in strong. The sun has been beating us down since mid-May. I forgot to water it a few times. It looked like I was growing kale chips straight from the stem. We bounced back from a couple of bouts of negligence. Recovery took longer than we would have liked which took a toll emotionally. We are both winter vegetables. Neither of us should be here. Survival is possible thanks to the coastal weather but that’s not our original habitat. I can’t believe that’s how November feels like. Emotional support and mutual care can only go so far, we need rain.

← Index / Published on 2024-11-04