Where the hardware store doubles as an agricultural university
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Odessa, it’s that every single resident is not only incredibly friendly but also a walking encyclopedia on just about everything.
Seriously, I could probably walk into the post office, ask about the best way to build a chicken coop out of recycled materials, and leave with a step-by-step guide, a handshake, and possibly a hand-drawn blueprint.
This past week, I wandered into the Odessa hardware store under the illusion that I am now qualified to manage an entire garden simply because I haven’t yet killed my indoor plants. Call it optimism, call it delusion—I call it a challenge.
I met an older gentleman at the counter who, within minutes, had me deep in conversation about soil types, seeding techniques, plant spacing, and even the psychological motivations of tomatoes (okay, maybe I’m exaggerating on that last one, but you get the point).
We covered everything short of drafting a formal dissertation on gardening strategies.
Now, as you may recall from last week, I discussed the serenading felines of Harrington—the ones who believe every night is an audition for Cats: The Musical.
This gentleman, wise in all things horticulture and feline deterrence, gave me the foolproof, humane solution: plant rosemary, lavender, and marigolds.
Apparently, cats hate these plants due to the scents. (Of course, knowing my luck, I’ll end up with a gang of rebellious cats that develop a refined taste for lavender. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.)
Taking his advice to heart, I have officially seeded 68 seeds. Yes, sixty-eight. Because if I’m going to garden, I’m going to garden. Sure, I planted the recommended feline repellent, but I also threw in tomatoes, carrots, green beans, sugar snap peas, and something called White Lace Finch. Did I impulsively buy it off Facebook Marketplace without fully understanding what it is? Absolutely. Will I figure it out as I go? You bet.
The gentleman at the hardware store also imparted some wisdom on how to deter berry-snatching birds come spring.
His solution? Paint small rocks red and scatter them around the garden. Apparently, the birds will peck at them, realize they aren’t edible, and move on to ruin someone else’s garden instead. It’s genius, really.
So, if you see me out there, covered in potting soil and meticulously painting rocks like some sort of eccentric garden artist, just know—I’m on a mission.
Odessa, thank you for your knowledge, your humor, and your boundless enthusiasm for ensuring that even the most clueless gardener (i.e., me) has a fighting chance.
Stay tuned for next week, when I probably learn the hard way that plants require actual maintenance and aren’t just set-it-and-forget-it like a slow cooker.
Until then, happy planting!