This last garden was officially my final garden in Florida. Although we don't plan on moving for another year and a half (two years at the most), I've made the decision to not plant a garden next spring. It was a tough decision to make. I love having my little garden even though I rarely manage to grow anything other than a ton of tomatoes and peppers. The satisfaction I would get from going out into the backyard and picking some veggies to go with dinner was unbeatable.
The reason why I'm not doing it again might seem a little strange: roots. I want nothing to do with anything rooted in Florida. Let me explain.
Many of you know that Jay and I have a long(ish) term goal of leaving Florida. We are so completely focused on leaving that we are in constant purge mode. We look around our house and question how strong our love is for our possessions. Do we love this table/couch/bookcase enough to move it across the country? You'd be surprised how little I actually love. If it was absolutely necessary, I could leave with very little. I just want to get out.
So when I think about planting another garden, putting down more roots here, I get sick to my stomach. I feel like it would just be one more thing tying me to this part of the country. I feel like, symbolically speaking, I would be giving Florida a fresh start, another chance. I can't bring myself to do that.
Sorry Florida. You had your chance. You aren't the right fit for my family. It's not us, it's you.
Next year my tomatoes will be store bought.