I keep a large pot with some soil in it on my balcony in which I don’t grow anything in. I just throw food scarps like veggie skins and leaves, and the clippings from other plants in with the soil as a kind of very unsophisticated compost operation. At some point, I must have thrown the insides of a pepper in there. Though there were no signs of life in the mixture when I potted my various tomatoes and herbs this past spring, things started sprout soon after going into the smaller pots. I was mighty surprised. This happened with pumpkin seeds as well, these were vicious and killed some of my little tomatoes, but the peppers were pretty harmless so I let them be. They really didn’t do much all summer. They didn’t grown very tall, didn’t die, didn’t get dried out, and were unaffected by the pesky aphid infestation. They also didn’t produce any peppers.
The balcony has been fairly inactive for a while now as it is getting cooler, so I was really delighted to see that my slow child was finally starting to shine when a few weeks ago, I noticed a couple blossoms. The blossoms eventually fell and little peppers started forming. The photo in this post is of the largest pepper. It’s pretty lame. At this rate it will be a decent sized pepper by next summer. I expect the plants to die at some point before next summer comes.
This weird dud of a pepper plant has inspired me to write, what I thought would be a poem, but has turned into a little children’s story. It isn’t polished enough to post it just yet, but I may do some sometime in the future. In the story, I attribute the pepper’s slow development to its mother being a junky, I mean a farm produced, pesticide and fertilizer addicted floozy being sold at the local supermarket.