The Survivor

The Survivor

This experience is not unique. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But it is a first for me. I've been planting and nurturing summer vegetable gardens in numerous backyards for a very long time. While I have heard stories like this before, I've never counted myself as one of the "lucky people" to receive this gift.

I can't tell you what I did. Whether it was "right" or "wrong," I do not know. It just happened. I chanced upon this "gift of gardening" while clearing out the very last portion of last summer's garden about a month ago. The section of the garden where pepper plants, both sweet bell peppers and hot varieties like the time-tested Jalapeño, are planted here. I always tear these out late because they keep producing right through fall and the first part of the coldest winter months.

Mother Nature usually delivers the "coup de grâce" or death blow to the entire garden at some point. It's usually after winter temperatures drop into a sustained freeze level. I live in a cold area of Northern California. The weather can deliver a whopper of a freeze every winter and often does. Several times. The tomato plants that I had not removed yet are normally finished off by a good freeze, and that includes the mighty pepper plants. Peppers love heat. They normally cannot stand cold winter temperatures, but some do perform better than others.

 

Imagine my surprise when I found this guy. It was located in last year's pepper bed, which contained about 25 different pepper plants. There was nothing special about this guy. It is your normal, ordinary Jalapeño pepper plant. It produced about the same number of spicy peppers that the two other Jalapeno plants did. However, unlike the other two, this one was not brown, barren, twig-like, or dead. For some strange reason it survived. No other garden plant did. Every single other plant in my expansive gardens kicked the bucket over the winter. Which is a normal development for most plants in a summer vegetable garden. But not this one.

 

New Growth Emerging

When I discovered it, in fact, it was in the process of sending out new growth through extensive vines that had intertwined with the branches of other peppers and the tomato cages I employ to support these plants in the garden area. Hidden by tall weeds and two dozen or so dead pepper plants, here was this one lone survivor. It was not planted anywhere near a heat source. It received no protection whatsoever. It just survived. For some reason, it decided not to give up the ghost. As for the two other Jalapeño varieties that were planted just inches away, they were long gone. They had become a collection of brown and crispy twigs.

 

Color me amazed. This is the first time I've encountered anything quite like this. But I did not let it stop me in that day's quest of tearing out the old garden to make way for the new one that will soon be planted. I nearly pulled this survivor out of the ground and tossed it into the large and expanding pile of dead pepper plants and various weeds. But I was struck by an epiphany. I've never encountered anything like this before. Why should I take action to kill a solid garden producer that obviously isn't quite done producing yet?

 

It would still be forced to survive a brutal haircut. Which it did receive. All of those long vines with new green growth were pruned away and tossed on the growing refuse pile. Those vines had grown into other plants that were dead. Plus, I had to remove the tomato cage support. So, if this mighty garden survivor was going to see another growing season, it would be forced to survive some fairly brutal treatment. It received a solid haircut, just like you see pictured above.

 

2023 Pepper Garden
Survivor is Front and Far Left

The "Survivor" refused to perish. Even in the face of the abuse that I just outlined. It lived through the brutal destruction and clearing of last year's pepper garden. It survived my onslaught of pulling and tearing out every last weed that had grown around it. It even took on the brutal haircut I delivered and laughed it off. Today, the survivor stands tall. The base of this plant looks like a small tree stump. It's gnarled and carries a none-too-pleasing brown color. Yet, green growth is springing forth from the survivor as I type this blog missive. It is the Jalapeño pepper plant that refuses to die.

 

I did make sure to show it a little bit of love this past weekend. As I chopped, mowed and chopped down even more spring weeds with a furious purpose, I dragged the garden hose over to the survivor. It received a slow drip of nourishing water, plus a sprinkling of garden fertilizer sprinkled at the base. It has reacted with a pleasing spurt of green growth over every section and branch that was not pruned away.

 

The Survivor may have survived the first onslaught of summer garden prep. But the abuse isn't over yet. It still may not make it. It will be required to survive the absolute injustice of whirling blades from the Mantis Rototiller that I put to work in the garden area every spring. I will make every effort to spare The Survivor from those churning blades that cut up the soil, but who knows how it will react.

 

Rat Exterminator on Patrol

I do consume my fair share of Jalapeño peppers from the garden. Sometimes I seed them. Sometimes I do not. They are chopped and placed into a collection of summer dishes such as soups, stews and even the occassional summer turkey burger. Even more find their way into the tomato salsas and sauces that I create from the abundance of a summer vegetable garden. Neighbors far and wide can expect a bounty of Jalapeño peppers. Provided they want them.

 

What kind of production can I expect from The Survivor? I'm not sure. I've never encountered this type of good luck charm before. But, provided it survives, I will keep my eye on its progress. Hopefully, it will provide a bounty of peppers. Just as it did last summer. Time will tell.