Jenny Laffien, a self-proclaimed late bloomer to gardening, possessed, for most of her life, whatever the opposite of a green thumb is. Every plant left her care, dead, within days. She lacked the patience, the gentleness and the levelheadedness needed to be successful at growing and sustaining anything. Growing up in North Jersey, her mother had a small side-yard herb garden where basil, mint, sage, thyme and rosemary, lemon balm, oregano and even a couple of her favorite florals: hydrangeas. Grandpa had a vegetable garden in his backyard in Garfield. It wasn’t very large, but he managed to grow all manner of vegetables, most notably a Sicilian squash called cacuzza, or “gagootz”, depending on pronunciation and heritage. She also clearly remembers visiting a house near Grandpa’s, the driveway of which was filled with rows of basil, or basilco, or “bah-za-lee-gaw”, again, depending on your pronunciation. Beyond those few glimpses of gardening, she knew nothing.
When Mrs. Laffien moved to South Florida, then Miss Pellegrino, and subsequently bought a small home, she thought, perhaps, she’d give gardening a try. The idea of “living off the land” was alluring, but Florida was not like New Jersey. Her second year in the house, she attempted broccoli, carrots, and onions, but without understanding soil types (or consistent watering), they quickly failed. The next year, she tried herbs and had some success re-planting potted herbs of a stout nature: rosemary and sage. And though she desperately wanted lavender, the plants only lasted a couple of months before withering. Jenny was ready to throw in the towel. The growing seasons made no sense to her, and she was beginning to believe she simply wasn’t cut-out for gardening.
Until one day, some friends came for dinner, a few tomatoes for the salad in hand. Something was funny about the tomatoes. They looked bumpy with black dots under the skin, almost like they had blackheads. When Jenny cut into one, she was amazed to see little sprouts. The tomato was undergoing vivipary—a phenomenon where seeds begin to sprout inside a live fruit. In utter awe, she sliced the other tomato open as well to find the tomato undergoing the same process as the other and decided to ride it out, planting the seedlings. That was May 1. Now, rounding to the end of July, three of those original seeds have matured into full grown plants with one producing a couple of tomatoes despite the Florida heat.
Witnessing vivipary in action piqued Jenny’s interest in growing things – not for the fruit or vegetable she would get at the end, but for the process itself. She threw myself into research, learning what she could grow in the Florida summer heat. Over the next two months, her husband supported her in her new endeavor (and some might say obsession), building a compost bin to amend their sandy soil, four planter beds, a rain barrel, and a fenced-in garden area. “It’s all very janky and primitive at the moment, but while we ascertain the best growing spots on our property, we have been careful not to make anything too permanent. After the coming “winter”, we plan to beautify the garden.” She says of their current set-up.
But in the meantime, they have planted seminole pumpkins (a native Florida variety), marveled at the growth process for sweet potato slips, purchased a dwarf fig tree seedling, planted two mangoes from the grocery store, luffa, yard long beans (a heat-tolerant variety of green beans), attempted ginger (failed) and watermelon (failed), and a dozen herbs plants that just couldn’t take the heat. And this month, Jenny will be getting some seeds started for San Marzano tomatoes for the fall, garlic, and onions. The Laffiens also tried their hand at florals from seed, but so far only a few wild flowers have bloomed.
Their seminole pumpkins are a mixed bag. Both male and female flowers have begun forming, but have also undergone a low-level attack by pumpkin worms. The worms chew the leaves, defecate and lay eggs everywhere before rolling themselves up in a leaf to metamorph into a moth. But if the worms can hold off, the couple is hoping for one to two pumpkins per plant. It’s disappointing. From all the videos Jenny watched, she fully expected seminole pumpkins would grow easily in Florida’s summer. Alas, one plant has been all but decimated while the other slowly being overtaken by the worms. Squishing a dozen worms has become part of her morning routine.
The luffa and green beans are newly planted. Yard Long Beans have a short growth cycle, but whether they make it through August, Florida’s rainiest and stormiest month, is questionable. The luffa, on the other hand, have a very long growth cycle, especially when growing them to make sponges, which the new gardener is as it doesn’t get near to any kind of frost date until after Christmas in her gardening zone. She feels confident the luffa will have a full growth period, provided they make it through hurricane season as well.
Tomatoes are touch and go. They are not meant to grow in such heat as is currently sweeping the east coast, with the shade temperature rising to 92 degrees Fahrenheit and the temperature in the sun rising well above 100. But Mrs. Laffien may have found a solution. She keeps her tomato plants positioned under some tree branches. In the morning, they get ample sunlight, are shaded in the afternoon, and then get a bit more sun in the evening as the sun is setting. This tactic seems to be helping—somewhat. One plant is stressed by the heat, and rainfall has been scarce. She’s unsure of the tomato variety that sprouted from vivipary and suspects they are not heirloom.
Each plant has been a venture commanding Jenny’s care, but basil is the top priority in her garden, especially Mammoth Basil, which she propagates regularly. She’s grown several plants this way, and a few from seed, and dreams of having lush, bushy basil for Pellegrino Table—a micro-market venture she co-owns with her mother. Few things bring her more joy than the scent of fresh basil in the kitchen.
Through it all, Mrs. Laffien has learned that gardening requires more than time—it requires transformation. It demands patience, which she’s slowly cultivating. Despite the heat, the unrelenting mosquitoes, and the pests, she finds joy in the process. She continues learning through resources like Jerra’s Garden on YouTube.
The next few months will be tricky in the garden, but Jenny and her husband are committed to learning, failing, growing, and eventually flourishing—one season at a time.
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Authors Note: Thank you for reading my article and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to hold down those little clapping hands till they hit 50 and leave your thoughts or links to articles you’ve written or think might be of interest. If you’d like to see more of my writing, check out the similar posts below.
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