Adventures in Home Ownership: Tackling the Garden

Thank goodness for my mother-in-law. That may be as rare an expression as there is, but I've said it to myself, silently and aloud, dozens of times in the last few weeks.

As my husband and I tackle our first big homeowning project -- the lawn and garden -- Ann has been a walking directory of what's what, letting us know that those "weeds" we just ripped out were actually black-eyed susans (oops) and the pretty whispy plants that were taking over the area by our front porch were actually not supposed to be there.

I grew up in a household that involved a whole lot of yardwork. My parents gave each of us our own garden beds around my childhood home in Landing, and I can remember at least spending a full day or two devoting myself to my plot before my interest waned and I moved on to games of "Out to See the Ghost Tonight" and kickball. 

I have a pretty vivid memory (it drives my parents and husband crazy), but for some reason I don't much remember whether my garden attempts were successful or not.  I do remember the care with which I picked out seed packets at the nursery, and my mom reminding me that my garden was in full sunlight, so I should be sure to choose my seeds accordingly.  And I remember wearing a toolbelt with a trowel and cultivator, and pulling on cream-colored gloves with little pink and blue flowers on them. I remember our backyard neighbor, Jack, telling me about how woodchips were good for keeping moisture in the ground, so my dad helped me scavenge some when a storm knocked down a tree on our block and a giant woodchip pile was left behind.

But the outcome of my cultivation attempts?  I don't really recall. 

I spent a summer working for DG Driving School in Mt. Arlington, and my boss Dave Gardner would pay me extra to help him with his backyard garden (garden is actually an understatement -- it was practically a small farm). We shoveled his compost, carefully dropped seeds or seedlings into perfectly-dug holes, fitted paper-towel tubes around the base of stems to prevent worms from getting to them, set up irrigation hoses... I was constantly bent over, and my fingernails were perpetually soil-encrusted. 

In addition to some extra cash, I was eventually rewarded with peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, and more -- all of which were probably much tastier than anything I could buy at the store.  My enjoyment of the bounty, however, is a scant memory compared to the hours Dave and I spent hunched over his terraced backyard.

But I realize that's probably the point. Much as my husband and I will lament the work we now have to do at home (cutting into valuable party time over the holiday weekend), gardening is a reward in itself -- even if the outcome doesn't astound and amaze you. I know our garden isn't going to knock the socks off of our new neighbors. But the warm afternoons we're spending outside together (a nice change of pace from the box-unpacking indoors) have been invaluable, and I'm looking forward to snipping fresh basil and oregano for our mid-summer pasta dishes. As Mirabel Osler said, "There can be no other occupation like gardening in which, if you were to creep up behind someone at their work, you would find them smiling."

And it helps to have the peppering of garden wisdom that can only come from years of tending to one's own. Thanks, Ann.  (And Mom and Dad. And Jack. And Dave.) These buds are for you.

Tags: home | home and garden | Gardening