Seed Spotlight: Broccoli

I didn’t care too much for broccoli as a kid. Oh, I didn’t mind eatin’ it, ya see–it wasn’t my favorite, but way better than, say, cactus flesh–that stuff’s bitter! No, the thing that really bothered me about broccoli was that it’s a dang pain to grow!

Seems like Papa spent every cold season o’ my childhood tryin’ to get our broccoli plants to fruit. They ain’t as cold-hardy as some but definitely don’t take the heat, and their growin’ season’s almost too long for our short in-between periods. ‘Sides that, they’re just picky! We have to plant ‘em in the best soil to even have a chance, give ‘em more water’n any one plant deserves, and keep out the creepin’ desert weeds that like to find their way into our fields–and even then sometimes we don’t get any broccoli. Folk ‘round here make a game of it–they like makin’ bets on whether our broccoli plants’ll turn into anything edible.

I remember one year–think I was ten or eleven–Papa and I were out in the fields bent over a bunch o’ broccoli plants. I stretched my back, groanin’ loudly. “Papa, I get so tired o’ havin’ to tend and water and care for this dang broccoli. Seems like the most troublesome thing we grow! Can’t we just till all these plants under and plant somethin’ easier? Like more potatoes? We can always use more potatoes!”

I’ll never forget the look Papa gave me over his water skin–kinda troubled and serious. He shifted the skin to his other hand, strokin’ his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose we could do that,” he said, “if you’ve a mind to. Broccoli is cantankerous as an east wind to grow—and, as you rightly say, potatoes are easier.”

I reckon my face lit up like sunlight on water. “Thanks, Papa! We’ll save stacks of time without broccoli to slave over!” I thought I was oh so clever, sayin’ this. Papa had no use for those who squandered time—it was every bit as precious as water, he said.

But Papa didn’t seem to hear me. I followed his eyes toward the Gatas’ ranch–they were our closest neighbors, though all ya could see o’ their place was a field o’ cattle. “But first, my dear girl, let me ask you this—what if young Caldin were a plant?”

I stopped mid-stretch. Caldin, the neighbor boy–he was ‘bout five. He couldn’t talk like other kids. His steps were slow and stumbly, and every time ya’ tried to teach him somethin’ new, like how to plant a certain seed or tend a certain crop, ya had to show him over and over again. But I was sure there wasn’t another person in Gildaresh who smiled quite like Caldin, or gave out as many hugs.

I felt a tear prick my eye. Would I till Caldin under like some troublesome broccoli plant–just because he needed extra tendin’ and carin’ for? I glanced at Papa, but he’d gone back to waterin’ the broccoli.

I knelt beside another plant and picked a green worm off a leaf. “Ya know, Papa,” I said, “Caldin’s got real good at helpin’ make butter, and there ain’t a better use for butter than melted in a pot of steamin’ broccoli!”

From Sarah: Now through March 16th, 2025, get a free packet of Waltham 29 Broccoli seeds with any order! Click on the button below to head over to the Shop page.

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