I am consistently amazed when anything I plant here in this (expletive) desert does anything other than shrivel into dust immediately. Granted, I could probably live in the most fertile of areas and still struggle with keeping any kind of vegetation alive, but it is particularly hard here. In fact, just the other day I sent my mother-in-law a potted rose plant for mother's day. (I hate cut flowers- they die too quickly, and that makes me sad- I'm a "practical" gifter) She called to thank us (cause she is sweet like that) and told me she would plant them outside in her garden. This totally caught me off guard. Because if I were to plant something like that in my backyard it would have the lifespan of a fly. But no! Things grow in other places! You could plant a little rose bush! This is a foreign concept to me. Like how my in-law's grass grows without a sprinkler system. It's weird.
Anyway, some of the things I have planted flowered, and this is freakin' amazing. For a minute, I almost forget I live on the surface of the sun.
I routinely curse the settlers who decided that this (yet another expletive) place would make a good home for... anyone. Because this should just be an uninhabited desert that everyone avoids- like the Sahara desert. Those nomads were smart- there is nothing out there. Just sand. And maybe a camel.
Seriously, what were those early pioneers thinking? They traveled here by wagon, before the age of air conditioning, indoor plumbing, and water sprinklers. The women wore layers and layers of undies, petticoats, heavy dresses, all covered up from ankle to chin. How insane would you have to be to stay here? Surely the only thing to eat was cactus! I would have turned my wagon right around and marched back home.
... and that is exactly why I am not a farmer... and I live in a day of modern conveniences that make it only semi-bearable to live here.