Seed catalogs cause wishful thinking

I finished reading “The Jesus Cow” by Michael Perry last week. Although it wasn’t hilarious as the blurb promised it did have moments that were extremely funny and the ending took me by surprise.

Wanting to stay in the world of fiction, I did something I rarely do. I read the information at the end of the book. It was there that I came upon a statement that I knew to be true. I think anyone who has ever planted anything will agree. Perry wrote, “Seed catalogs are responsible for more unfulfilled fantasies than Enron and Playboy combined.”

I found it ironic that very same day that I read the quote my mailbox brought me yet another seed catalog. It soon joined the pile of other catalogs and gardening magazines. The publications featured pictures of perfect tomatoes in many varieties. Each promising to be better, more prolific and better tasting than their predecessors. Even vegetables I dislike were presented in an appealing manner that caused me to consider them. Not a single one depicted anything that had been tasted and rejected by evil squirrels.

The magazines were loaded with photographs of weed-free flowerbeds that featured blooms from late winter through late autumn. In the off season trees, shrubs or architectural elements provided interest. Often there were diagrams suggesting that anyone could duplicate the plantings.

I have spent many hours leafing through seed catalogs and designing plantings in my mind. Sometimes I give in to the allure of wishful thinking and order from the catalog. Seldom, if ever, do things turn out like I plan.

Those beans I planted are often eaten not by anyone in the family but are a snack for the local deer. 

Tomatoes and flower bulbs become appetizers for the squirrels. Some people put out corn for the squirrels. Not me. I plant stuff and make them work for their food. They show their appreciation by building nests inside the front porch soffits and strewing building materials everywhere.

One year I planted corn. The raccoons threw a party and destroyed it all. I haven’t planted corn since, even though the corn in the catalogs becomes more tempting every year. The raccoons stop by on occasion just to see if I have changed my mind.

Like Enron, seed catalogs promise that you, too, can profit with a small investment. The girly magazine, well, let’s just say I don’t see the allure of it, but some people do, just like some people find vegetable gardening too much work and think flowers are useless.

Despite years of disappointing results, seed catalogs and I have reached an understanding. I assume that no matter which catalog I order from, there are no guarantees that anything I grow will look like the pictures. Catalog companies promise to keep sending me pictures of what could be with no guarantee that I will place an order. Squirrels try to order their favorites by glaring at me when I pass their nests on the porch. I assume they are using squirrel ESP.

Then there are the miracles that keep me coming back to the enticing publications. Something I took a chance on will far surpass the description in the ad. It is that one success that compels me to keep the fantasy of having a flower  bed that not only looks good all year but that by some miracle contains not a single stray blade of grass or dandelion.

Seed catalogs may be the source of unfulfilled fantasies but where else will I find the latest, prettiest, tastiest possibilities that will enable me to play in the dirt under the guise of feeding my family and my soul?