How an Eggplant Changed the Rhythm of My Garden Days
What You'll Discover in This Post
In this long garden diary, you'll walk with me from the moment my eggplants were just surprise seedlings pushing through Soshanguve soil, to the heat soaked afternoons when their purple flowers opened, to the day the first fruit formed. I'll share my watering routine, pruning lessons, soil struggles, pest problems, and how the Gauteng sun shaped the whole journey. This is the story of how I grew eggplants and how they quietly grew me too.
Introduction: When a Stranger Sprouted in My Garden
The first step came from a random thought which spread like a seed through the air until it found its home between the rocks. The morning sticks with me because I stepped barefoot into the garden to feel the wet earth that the rain had left behind overnight. The daylight shadows revealed a single green sprout which showed its two round cotyledons and two leaves with fine hairs.
At first, I thought it was just another volunteer plant from my compost maybe a weed, maybe something familiar. But something about how the leaves sat wide and confident made me pause. I touched one gently, and the texture told me: this was an eggplant.
It felt like a gift a plant choosing my garden, not the other way around.
That moment set the tone for the whole season. I wasn't just growing eggplants; I was being led into a journey of patience, observation, and quiet joy.
Chapter One: Those Early Days of Watching and Wondering
The seedling grew slowly at first, like it was thinking. Some mornings the small leaves were still sparkling with dew, even in the dusty air of Soshanguve.I watched the barren soil getting worse day by day in the summertime heat as I kept it watered, making sure the roots were saturated.
Soshanguve has sandy soil which makes water runoff during rains so I decided to add my homemade compost that came from kitchen waste and dried leaves. The seedling showed instant happiness through its new leaves which appeared right after I added the compost. These leaves appeared bigger and darker with more vibrant colors than the original ones. I realized that eggplants prefer healthy but airy soil, the kind of soil that can give access to fresh air and enough space to develop roots.
On some occasions, I would kneel down beside the plant and inspect every leaf for any holes, dryness, or change in color. Those minutes of silence gave me a sense that I was more connected to that little plant than to anything else in my surroundings. It was a growth process of a child that I was seeing slow, unpredictable, but still lovely.
Chapter Two: The Plant Becomes a Bush
Within weeks, the eggplant started changing fast. The stalk became thicker and a little purple, it was covered in small hairs which glistened under the Gauteng sun. Each time I touched it, the plant seemed firm as if it was getting ready to carry the load of the fruit that it would bear later.
I really put a keen eye on how the leaves were always turning towards the brightest light, like they were chasing every bit of sun they could get. That made me a lesson: eggplants are basically made from the sun. They keep on giving you the fruits of your labor the more sunlight they get.
I removed some parts around the plant to let the air flow easily and also to have no other plants that would grow beside it. And slowly, the single stem branched into a compact bush, full of promise.
Chapter Three: The First Flower - A Soft Purple Surprise
I will never forget the first flower.
It came into view during my regular slow walk around the garden on a hot morning. The previous day a small bud was made, yet I truly didn't think it would open that soon. The moment I laid eyes on the purple star shaped flower my chest started to experience an unusual sensation.
The flowers showed delicate qualities which made them appear as if an individual craftsman had created each petal and the yellow stamens at the center of the flower looked like tiny glowing light bulbs. I got a little closer and saw the soft aroma barely detectable but very soothing. It made me remember that nature communicates quietly, never yelling, but it is the oldest storyteller nevertheless.
Just three bees were there that day and they made a low humming sound as they traveled from one blossom to the other. Every time a bee landed on that bloom, I whispered, "Do your magic, my friend." Pollination felt like teamwork between me and nature.
Chapter Four: Fruit Formation - The Small Miracle Hanging From a Stem
Days after the flower wilted, I saw something forming beneath the calyx.
It was small, round, and shaded in deep purple. Covered in tiny fuzz like a newborn. I stared at it, almost not believing how quickly the transformation happened. From flower to fruit it felt like watching life appear out of thin air.
When you grow your own vegetables, you start understanding how sacred each fruit is. Food is made to seem very normal in supermarkets, but if you grow it yourself, even a very small baby eggplant is something incredible to you that you can't take your eyes off the stem.
I was looking at it every day and sometimes I was looking at it more than once. I am also ready to bet that each time I had a look at it, it had grown a little more.
Chapter Five: Watering, Feeding and Caring in the Harsh Gauteng Heat
Growing eggplants in Soshanguve comes with challenges heat that bites, soil that dries too fast, and winds that sometimes snap tender branches. I had to learn what the plant liked, and what stressed it.
Watering: I learned quickly not to water lightly. A small sprinkle evaporates in minutes here. Eggplants want deep watering, where the moisture reaches the lower roots. So every 2 to 3 days, especially during heatwaves, I watered early in the morning until the soil felt cool and heavy.
Feeding: Eggplants are eaters. On the day I spread a layer of compost on the soil and every now and then I was pouring fermented plant juice or compost tea the leaves went to the sky in size and the flowers multiplied.
The plant was telling me, "Thank you. Keep going."
Pruning: The bottom leaves often touched the soil and collected dust, making them vulnerable to pests. So I removed them, giving the plant a clean, open shape. That airflow kept it healthier and reduced fungal issues.
Supporting: As the fruit grew heavier, I gently tied the stem to a thin stake. The wind in Soshanguve is unpredictable, and eggplant branches can bend easily. This simple support kept the plant from breaking.
Chapter Six: Pests, Problems, and How They Tested My Patience
Not every day was perfect.
I found flea beetles jumping around the leaves, leaving tiny pinholes. Sometimes aphids hid under the softer leaves. And once, a caterpillar munched right through the tip of a new branch.
But each challenge taught me resilience.
I mixed warm water with a bit of dish soap and sprayed it gently. I removed some pests by hand. I stayed consistent and over time the plant grew strong enough to outgrow the damage.
Eggplants taught me something here:
Perfection is not required. Persistence is.
Chapter Seven: The Harvest That Tasted Like Victory
Once the very first eggplant was about the size of my palm, I went ahead and felt the skin a nice, shiny, rich purple one. That shininess is actually the secret way to tell the fruit is ripe. When the shine is fading, the fruit is already there for a while.
I cut it with a pair of scissors, leaving a little stem attached. I think the heat that came up inside me from the hand was not really the vegetable, but the journey, the watering in the morning, the checking in by the late afternoon, the pruning, the small worries, the excitement of every new change.
There is nothing that can make you feel more alive and connected to life than growing your own from seed all the way to harvest it is a process of slowing down, it lifts your spirit up, and eventually it teaches you that the most beautiful things come from the growing of the most patient seeds.
Conclusion: How My Eggplants Grew Me Too
My first intention with eggplant was just to figure out what it was all about, but hearing along the way I ended up learning more of myself than I expected.
I learned to keep oneself waiting.
I learned to trust the process.
I learned that personal development is very quiet, almost invisible, and only one day it comes out very visibly and even boldly.
Now every time I see those plants that are growing, reaching maturity, and yielding fruit, I get a sense of pride. Not just of the harvest, but of the relationship I built with them.
In a world that wants everything fast, my eggplants taught me the beauty of slow miracles.
