Life Along the South Texas Sand Sheet
Not far from here a lady named Adela has a garden. Now and then I’ll visit the garden and
invariably find Adela tending the seedling plots or perhaps she’ll be in the
strawberry field or even out in her small vineyard examining the plants. Everything growing around her was borne from
her hands. Usually, she works alone but occasionally
someone will stop by to lend a helping hand. No one with any sense tells Adela how plants
should grow; after all, someone who works day after day in a garden gets to
know the plants on deeply intimate terms.
Chile Pequin
Adela has hundreds of chile pequin plants in her garden
I seldom say much when I’m in Adela’s garden as not to
disturb her work. I get the impression
she has little time for small talk and besides, the concentration on her face
tells me not to bother her when she’s in the “flow”.
Adela tending her seedlings
Pumpkins or watermelons or perhaps onions and garlic or rarities
like pepino del monte, Adela grows
them all. So you see, there’s always
something new to observe. Granted I am a
lover of native plants. I can spend an
entire day roaming the quiet woods looking at the foliage. Keeping track of growth patterns and making
note of soil types; I find very few things as pleasing as wandering the woods
amongst the plants. In that respect,
Adela’s garden is an anomaly amidst the natural world; and though I’ve never
been too keen on modern agriculture, prone as it is to destroy the land, I do
find the concept of a small garden, built from the mindset of self-sufficiency
and with nary a thought about pesticides or artificial fertilizers, a good and
practical idea. Granted that Adela works
diligently five or six days a week to make her garden productive, but if one is
tactical and frugal then a minimalist garden will produce all one needs to
become self-sufficient.
The seedlings have been moved to larger pots
Pepino del Monte grows in a vine along the ground
Wild Cucumber or Pepino del Monte
Wild cucumber or pepino
del monte is an introduced plant that’s now essentially native in this
region. I grow tired of that
anthropocentric term “invasive,” a prejudicial word that eschews one life form
and then fully accepts another that is perhaps as “invasive” or more so than
the first. None of it makes much sense
until one realizes that most everything in this life is predicated on making
one person happy at the expense of others.
So it is that mesquites (that are definitely not invasive) are often called “invasive” and cows (that are
absolutely invasive) are never considered as such. Regardless, the world is constantly changing
and plants and animals move about now with mind boggling frequency. The Columbian Exchange, the Asian Crossroads,
the North/South Fluctuation, and now the advent of Global Warming, Climate
Change, Chaos (choose your preferred phrase) and the entire concept of what is
native and what is soon to be native and what is overwhelming the other and
what is mutating into something else has become an evolutionary video flashing
before us.
Pepino del monte, by the way, can be pickled or it can be cooked fresh. My
preferred way of eating pepino del monte is as follows. I should note that my relative, Dario Guerra,
makes the most scrumptious pepino del monte I’ve ever eaten. As I understand it he sautés slices of pepino
in oil and then adds tomatoes, onions, a little bit of chile pequin or some other
hot stuff and then adds salt and pepper.
Not much to it but Dario combines the ingredients perfectly and I love
going over to his house for a bowl of pepino—or picadillo or frijoles y arroz
or whatever he has on the stove. Dario
is a born cook or perhaps I should say, chef.
I told the young man from Texas A&M Extension Service to
pay close attention to Adela’s advice. “She
knows more about plants in this area than anyone,” I said.