Only Two Things that Money Can't Buy

Posted on Wed 12th Apr, 2017 @ 4:00am by Carlo Rienzi

1,442 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Wrongs Darker Than Death Or Night
Location: Vanguard Garden Decks
Tags: carlorienzi

Only two things that money can't buy--true love and home-grown tomatoes. --John Denver in a song by Guy Clark.

Carlo Rienzi leaned against his shovel in the middle of the tomato garden in his allotment of land that he had leased when he first purchased Pub 10-42. Today was his day off, and he had taken to spending some part of his off-days tending to the garden he had planted for his personal use. He'd hired a professional gardener for Pub 10-42's needs because caring for and harvesting the pub's fresh produce was a full-time job on its own.

"Hornworms," he muttered in disgust as he peered at the little caterpillars trying to burrow their way into his San Marzano tomatoes. "What the hell am I gonna do now?" he wondered aloud. "I can't remember how Grandma Josie dealt with these little buggers." He wracked his brain. Were you supposed to put beer in little dishes out for them to drown in, or was that for snails? He groaned. "I guess it's back to the gardening books for me."

Carlo grumbled to himself as he dug around in his garden shed, found gloves and a jar, and went back out to start picking worms off of his tomatoes. Soon his gloves were covered in splotches of dark goo, and he had gathered several hornworms in the container.

He walked over to an LCARS terminal. There were a handful scattered about the allotments for renters to use. "Computer--How do I get rid of hornworms on my tomatoes?"

"Working. The best way to get rid of hornworms is to not have them in the first place--"

"No shit, Sherlock! You think? I already know I suck at gardening. No need to rub it in."

The computer continued, unperturbed by his outburst. Weird how the things knew to ignore the silly humans when they spoke nonsense. "When tilling the soil at the start of a new planting season, a gardener should observe the tilled soil for signs of moth eggs..."

As if I would have any idea what hornworm eggs look like or could distinguish them from dirt! Carlo thought.

It went on, amid Carlo rolling his eyes until at last he picked up on something useful. "I should grow dill? Huh. Okay. Stop, stop! I already know about crop rotation," Carlo groused as the computer went on. "And no, there is no way in Hell that I will introduce wasps in here. Are you crazy?" Carlo shuddered at the idea of wasps on the station. "Okay, so dill to lure them and Bt spray to get rid of the nasties."

Carlo sighed. He would have to report the hornworms to Hieronymus. The gardener would not be pleased, but it was either that or let the hornworms spread to other people's crops. He couldn't do that. Carlo checked each of his plants carefully, to ensure that he hadn't missed any hornworms. Then he went to the office that the old gardener kept and knocked on the door after glancing about to see if the head gardener was working outside. "Hieronymus, you in there?"

"No!" grumped the head gardener. "I'm out in the south forty, looking for boll weevils!" Block continued working on splitting the tulip bulbs he babied on his personal time. He'd be a blue-faced and blue-footed booby if he were going to talk to someone on his own time!

Carlo opened the door widely enough to poke his head in. "Boll weevils, huh? That doesn't sound like much fun." He looked at what Hieronymus was working on. "How're your tulips?"

"Oh, it's you," Block said. "Alright, come in then, and close the door behind you. Why aren't there ever locks where they're needed?" He tamped the dirt down around the two splits he'd just repotted. "The tulips are fine, multiplying like weeds, but you can't have any. They aren't ready, so don't ask."

He put the pots under the grow light shelf and grudgingly asked, "How are your tomatoes? That professional you hired knows a thing or two worth listening to. Good thing you followed my recommendation, or who knows what you'd be serving in that fancy restaurant of yours."

Carlo entered and shut the door. "Probably hornworms," he said darkly. "I just peeled six of them off my tomato vines. I thought I'd better warn you."

"Hornworms?" The gardener turned and looked at his visitor for the first time. "How in name of all that grows would you get hornworms on a space station? What kinda plants you puttin' in, boy?" He waved off an answer. "Never mind, I know tomatoes, and other nightshade plants, no doubt. I'll bet you consulted that computer thing, didn't ya? Yep, yep, I know you did. Probably told you about chemicals and maybe plantin' dill, am I right?"

"Ye-ahhh..." Carlo replied. "Supposedly they love dill and flock to it like bees to honey, or something like that? It seemed a better idea than wasps, and I can always find a use for dill. I've got my Mom's kosher dill pickle recipe somewhere."

"All true, but there's something even better. Those things are in your soil, and we need to get them out before they spread through the whole deck. No one will thank you for that! They must have been in the soil you used, 'cause they live there 3 or 4 years before you ever see the caterpillar." Block scratched his head. "You took over someone else's plot, didn't you? Did you put in new dirt?"

"No, I didn't realize I needed to," Carlo said. "I just added fertilizer, some volcanic ash, and mulch. What do you suggest?" This was fascinating, Carlo thought, and it was why he liked talking to the old guy so much. Every conversation with Hieronymus was an education in gardening, and for someone who had grown up in the concrete jungle of Manhattan and spent most of his life reveling in the late-night bar scene, gardening was hitherto unexplored territory for him to soak up.

"Hang on," Hieronymus said. He went to a shelf on the other side of the room and began rummaging through boxes, muttering under his breath. "Epsom salts ... powdered willow ... used coffee grounds ... crushed egg shells ... lime ... ah, here we go. Milky spores!" He picked up the blue and white container and a red can with a black lid.

"Just mix ... let's see," he muttered, "an ounce for oh, say 15 square meters ... and then ... well, take this whole can and mix it well ...." He mixed and poured back and forth in a large bowl, continuing his monologue. After about three minutes, he nodded in satisfaction and handed the bowl to Rienzi. "That'll do it. This stuff gets into the insides of the caterpillars and kills them, but the spores keep multiplying and killing and spreading underground. Why, in a season or two, nary hornworm nor Japanese beetle will infest the entire deck of gardens. Now use it all, you hear me?"

Carlo watched, startled, as Hieronymus began mixing the ingredients from the two containers into the large bowl and soon had them combined into a homogeneous compound. "Thank you," he said. "I'll make sure to use it all. So I'm curious--Is there any sort of tomatoey food--or any other kind of food, really--that you like a lot? Once I get my plants back into shape, I'd like to make you something delicious, by way of thanks."

"Feed 'em epsom ..." Block stopped and slapped his knee with a grin. "Oh, you mean me. Don't that beat all? Never did care much for tomatoes, though the wife likes them fine. I'm a meat and potatoes man myself ... though what they call meat these days is a sorry substitute for the real thing," he said sadly. After a moment, he went on. "You can fix any old thing, and I'll eat it all. I learned early in life that's the secret to not going hungry. Right nice of you to think of it."

His tone was gruff, but there was a little twinkle in his eye as he shooed Carlo toward the door. "Now, go on, get outta here; I have work to do. No time for lollygagging all day like you young folk."

"Well, it's right nice of you to help me with my tomatoes on your time off," Carlo said. "And I think I know just the thing to cook for you. Let me know what night--maybe you'd like to bring the Mrs. over, too? Dinner is on me."

Carlo Rienzi
Owner, Pub 10-42

Hieronymus Block
Head Gardener, Tivoli Gardens

 

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