I imagine a backyard like Don Vito Corleone’s: Patches of land blossoming with tomatoes, eggplants, and asparagus. There are trees bearing lemons, apples, and oranges. Like wise a hammock made of hemp in between two big trunks of trees and a small table with homegrown nuts and a pitcher of lemonade. That is a backyard no one can refuse, but me.

Because for a guy who couldn’t even grow a beard nor plant an occasional decent kiss, the thought of a self-sustaining garden is far fetched. It is not even in the neighborhood of what is possible. It is hopeless. Don’t believe me? Here are some of the many roadblocks in pursuing the dream of having a backyard garden to grow my own food.

You see in my city:

• The only green thing in my neighborhood is one of the three bulbs of a nearby traffic light. Everything else is grey cement, including my thumbs.

• Some of my neighbors have garden hoses, but not for watering plants but for washing away dog poop, bird droppings, and sorrows.

• The phrase “getting dirty” does not pertain to gardening at all.

• Among many of my friends and co-workers, “planting seeds” means impregnating women.

• A hoe is a person who sleeps with anything that walks.

• Dead head could be the head of a dead person, Jerry Garcia, or his fans.

• Humus is a Middle Eastern spread eaten with pita

• A plant is either Robert or a factory.

Hopeless, isn’t it?

One time, Sheryl Mae and I attended a wedding and the souvenir we got was a bamboo plant in a glass vase filled with water. The bride told us that the thing is almost maintenance free. All we needed to do was to place the plant near a window so it gets sunlight. No need to water or feed the thing some compost–just sunlight.

Of course it died!

But we did place it near a window. Unfortunately, the view from that single window we have is a hallway.

Yes, we suck at plants so much that even moss wouldn’t survive.

So thank God for these amazing farmers!