By Laurie Snider
Notes From The Nest
Each September, as the gardening season is coming to an end, I pull out my wrinkled up notebook and take stock of the year’s failures and successes. I like to wander around the 11 garden boxes that Randy’s built for me over the years and record what I grew in each and how well it did or didn’t do. I also take note of weather conditions and any extenuating circumstances that either aided or abetted me in the garden this year.
I love this old home where we live and the charming little piece of property that it sits on. Our lot is well treed, which adds to its cottagey ambiance but it makes our space for gardening quite limited. Our garage is detached and set back from the house. Previous occupants, many years ago, set down a cement pad, the length of the garage to the house. This is the only spot that gets regular direct sunlight and it’s proven to be an ideal place for gardening.
Luckily for me, Randy is a very capable carpenter. Years ago, we began with a few garden boxes. He built them so the beds are about three feet deep. This means the rabbits can’t get at them and I don’t have to bend down, which is much easier on my painful, arthritic knees. His first prototypes had casters and we could wheel them around the pad, which was quite handy. Over the years, we have added more, until now most of our space is covered, with an allowance for walking between each.
A few years back, I decided it would be best to keep track of my plantings in a little journal. After years of getting dragged around from garden bed to bed — and even being left out in the rain a time or two — it’s dirt smeared, curled up in places, with smudged ink and rudimentary diagrams. For me though, it’s an important treasure trove of hits and misses, goals and plans, tips and tidbits. I use it as a guide each season to help me decide what and where to plant.
I consider myself a “garden by the seat of my pants,” kind of gal. In this respect, I follow after my Dad, who taught me everything I needed to know on the subject. I’m certain if I spent more time pouring over resource books and the Internet, on such captivating topics such as manure, bone meal and soil PH, I would likely have better yields, but this isn’t why I garden. For me, it’s the process; it’s the journey, not the destination. It’s good for my soul!
Of course we enjoy reaping the benefits once the seeds and seedlings have grown into full-fledged plants bearing gifts, but I’ve always been mesmerized by watching things grow. I’m amazed at the transformation from dark earth, containing a few tiny seeds or lanky seedlings, barely able to hold themselves up, to near jungle-like conditions by mid-July. Bright red, yellow and orange tomatoes growing so thickly and heavily on the vines that the plants droop against the weight. Both stubby or long bristly cucumbers form a tangle against the chicken wire trellis we built. There are also tasty messes of green and yellow beans, sweet green peas, giant zucchini, carrots, beets and potatoes so creamy they melt in your mouth.
Of course, not everything I grow works out. I’ve learned by experimenting, that winter squashes, melons and pumpkins probably require more room than I’m able to allot them. I’d call that a Pinterest fail. I’d been admiring photos showing tall trellises, covered in more plumped up squash and melons than one family could possibly manage, so I gave it a go. What I grew instead were enormously, impressive leaves, with a scant offering or two. The melons were the size of golf balls and once you opened them, there was barely a teaspoon full of fruit inside. Not particularly satisfying. It was fun trying though, and that’s the point.
There are many health benefits to this rewarding pastime as well. According to Mother Earth News, studies show getting a little dirt under your nails, is great for your immune system. Also the National Gardening Association states that an hour of gardening burns 200 to 300 calories. And a poll by Gardeners World in the UK found 80 percent of gardeners were satisfied with their lives vs. 67 percent of non-gardeners. These all sound like great reasons to me.
I think a quote by avid gardener Richard W. Langer sums it up best, “Apprentice yourself to nature. Not a day will pass without her opening a new and wondrous world of experience to learn from and enjoy.” I wholeheartedly agree!