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Archive for March, 2010

And I don’t even like purple…

I took a short (very short, because it is still freezing here today!) walk around my garden today to get some photos of the perennials emerging from their winter slumber. Most of the photos didn’t turn out very well (a shivering garden blogger will have that effect on a photo…) Of the few that did, these two were my favorite, if for no other reason than the fact that purple is such a nice change from grayish brown, which is the color of just about everything in my front garden from November until April.

I like these sedums a lot when they are in bloom because the bees and monarch butterflies seem to love them. But I like them almost as much at this time of year, when it’s a nice surprise to pull back the leaves that mulch the bed and find them. They are just so vibrant against the brown leaves.

Ever since I realized several years back that bleeding heart foliage emerges this deep, shocking purple, I look out for it every spring. I’m surprised I didn’t notice it before now!

Soon everything will be up, and I’ll have my pick of things to look at. This time of year, though, every sign of emerging life is a happy surprise, and even colors I don’t normally fawn over get plenty of attention.

5 comments

How It All Began

Note to my readers: This is a long, very personal post. If that’s not your type of thing, that’s fine with me, really. Come back and visit another day and we’ll talk tomatoes –Colleen

I started gardening for love.

Some back story is important here, I suppose. Growing up, I was very close to my grandmothers, both of whom lived within five minutes of our house. My maternal grandparents died within ten months of each other, something that shredded our already-messed up family situation. But I had someone in my life who loved me, listened to me, taught me things like how to fry a chicken and how to make really good pancakes, and that all of my feelings, whether they were anger, or loneliness, or sadness, were valid and important. This was my father’s mother, Frances. Some of the happiest moments of my childhood were spent with her, drawing at her kitchen table or playing dress-up, or, later, sitting at the table just talking with her, and feeling like for once, I was finally being heard.

Grandma was diagnosed with breast cancer, underwent a mastectomy that failed to remove all of the disease, and went home because she didn’t want to live what was left of her life in the hospital. My routine of spending the weekend with Grandma continued, even after she was very sick. Except now, instead of getting cooking lessons, I was cooking for a woman who couldn’t eat. I was lifting my grandma, who had always seemed larger than life to me, into her bed so she could rest. I saw what happens to us when the body starts shutting down, and listened, helpless, to agonized, half delirious screams in the night. She died, napping on the couch, one day while I was at school. Everything good, honestly, had gone from my life.

I was fourteen.

Where were my parents in all of this, you might ask. They were at the bar. My parents and I were two ships passing in the night. I was lucky if I saw them when I got home from school. Most days, my mom would spare a minute or two to tell my younger sister and I what to eat for dinner. I generally didn’t see my father until well after 2 AM, when the bars closed, and he and my mother would come home fighting with each other, and, later, with me.

So I was alone, and, like just about any kid who’s hurting, I wanted my mommy. I tried finding all of these ways to make her happy. One of my last-ditch efforts to get a little time and attention was to weed her rose garden for her. My mom grew roses along two sides of our back yard, and, with all of the bar time, the rose garden had gotten really weedy. So I started weeding. The first time, I spent hours crouched over the beds, trying to get every last dandelion, every wild violet, and the medic that seemed to be everywhere. I filled several plastic shopping bags with weeds, and felt proud of what I’d managed to do.

It didn’t accomplish what I’d hoped it would. I got a half-hearted thanks. What was I expecting? That years worth of increasing neglect and alcoholism would turn around in an instant because I’d brought order to a rose garden? In my adolescent mind, that must have been exactly what I believed.

The next week, I weeded again. I didn’t know why. I just knew that the weeds were growing back, and I wanted something to keep myself busy. I could have gone out with my friends, who were generally sweet but also generally slutty, stoner type girls. I could have gotten attention that way, I guess. Something kept me home and turned me to the garden instead.

So I crouched in the garden, and I found a sense of peace in the methodical action of pulling weeds. My mind would wander. Sometimes, I’d daydream. Sometimes, my mind would be blank and only the appearance of the occasional spider crawling from under the railroad tie edging would shake me back to reality. I started to notice which weeds were more likely to grow where, and that moss grows in the darkest areas of the garden, giving even the glummest spots a bit of beauty and life.

Maybe if you’ve never been there, it’s hard to understand how welcome peace is when everything else is in shambles. I was dealing with all of the normal teenage garbage, plus my parents’ absence and addiction, the loss of the three people in my life I could always count on, and a few other things I’ll keep to myself. The peace that the simple act of weeding and watering gave to me was a life preserver. Gardening provided sanity and peace where there was none.

That’s why, my friends, I can get a bit passionate when it comes to gardening. That’s why you will never, ever hear me say that maybe people should get a different hobby if they aren’t growing their garden the same way I would. There’s a reason hospital patients live longer when given a plant to care for. Sometimes you just need a reason to get up in the morning.

Sometimes, a garden is all you’ve got.

Obviously, life got much, much better. I am living a life now I only could have dreamed of back then. It’s safe to say that had I made different choices during that time, I would not be here now. I would not have met my husband, who has been the only other person besides my grandma who I trusted enough to be myself with. I wouldn’t have four beautiful kids. I definitely wouldn’t be making my living writing about gardening. I owe a lot to gardening, and have a special affinity for even the most annoying of weeds. They’re what started me on this path, after all. Maybe I learned something from their tenacity and ability to thrive just about anywhere. It’s a good lesson to learn, and I’m so glad I paid attention.

25 comments

Giving Vegetable Gardeners a Bad Name Since 1996

There has been some discussion in the blogosphere of late about garden design as it pertains to vegetable gardens. Yesterday on Garden Rant, guest blogger Robin Ripley admonished those who don’t pay proper attention to design principles in their vegetable gardens to start doing so. She says:

“All of these ugly vegetable gardens are giving us respectable vegetable gardeners a bad name. Frankly, it’s no wonder that homeowners associations have banished vegetable gardens in their neighborhoods. If gardeners are going to approach grocery gardening in that lackadaisical way, I suggest they find another hobby.”**

Hmm. I have something to say. (Surprised?)

I want everyone to grow a vegetable garden. Everyone. I don’t care if you grow it in orange Home Depot buckets, classic potagers, old tires, terra cotta pots, raised beds, iron urns, or plastic kiddie pools. I don’t give a crap how your vegetable garden LOOKS. All I care about is that you are growing food, connecting with the Earth in a way that can only be done by eating the fruits of your labors. All that matters is that your kids know that potatoes do, in fact, grow below the ground, bugs abound in healthy gardens, and that worms rock. If you understand the work that goes into growing one perfect, juicy heirloom tomato — that’s all that I can ask. If you have one sunny spot on a shady lot, plunk a container there. If you can only garden in gutters attached to the side of the garage because your landlord won’t let you dig up the yard, go for it. If you’re running an illegal fire escape farm, if you push the limits of your gardening season, if you would do just about anything for some real, flavorful goddamn lettuce — you’re doing all you need to do. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks of your garden. It is beautiful.

Now I’m going to show some photos, taken yesterday after a day of pea and spinach planting, that will undoubtedly have the potager ladies clutching their pearls. At the very least, I will have earned my due as one of those gardeners who give vegetable gardening a bad name

One of the newest beds, which is where we were planning to put a patio eventually. We decided to make it a garden bed area instead because it gets good sun here on the southern side of the garage.

These are our original garden beds. Note the mismatched trellises, freestanding greenhouse for hardening off seedlings in a few weeks, and plethora of kids toys in the background.

This is the side yard garden, which went in last spring. It gets decent sun and more than doubled the space we had to garden in.

The side yard garden, in full jungle mode, in August. I’m sure some would consider it messy

What’s the point of showing these photos? To say that we each do whatever it takes to make our garden work. If growing food is the goal, then you do whatever you have to to take advantage of the sunniest areas of your yard. If your soil is crap, or laden with tree roots (as mine is) you grow up instead of flat on the ground. You do what it takes, because it’s worth it. Don’t let anyone discourage you from gardening if that’s what you want to do. Life’s too short, and the food’s just too good to miss.

**Robin has said that this post was written tongue-in-cheek. However, judging from the comments, it rubbed several people (including yours truly) the wrong way. We should be encouraging new veggie gardeners, not making them second-guess themselves.

***Clarification: Robin emailed me to let me know that she never said it was written tongue-in-cheek. I must have gotten that idea from a couple of people who were defending the post over at Garden Rant. I apologize for the misunderstanding.

Update: Celebrating Our Ugly Gardens

Gardenbloggers who have posted about their “ugly” gardens:

Gina at My Skinny Garden wrote an awesome post about her “ugly garden” today. Check it out!

Jessica from Dig It Yourself wrote “I Love My Ugly Garden Too!”

Mr. Brown Thumb discusses the back-and-forth on “ugly gardens” the past few days, and raises some questions about using a rant that alienates potential readers as a marketing ploy (hint: not the best idea.) Read his post, “Gardeners with Ugly Gardens Strike Back.”

Julia at Snarky Vegan (who has a killer garden, by the way): My Most Embarrassing Ugly Vegetable Garden Photos from 2009

Carri from Read Between the Limes: “My Ugly Garden”

Jodi from bloomingwriter: “I May Have an Ugly Garden. Depends on Which Day You Look.”

Kat from The Kat’s Garden: “Ugly is in the Eye of the Beholder”

Tina from Happy Hobby Habit: “Ugly Garden Silence” (this one nearly had me in tears — words have power, and people should think before they run their mouths (or keyboards, as the case may be.)

***This has sparked quite a Twitter/garden blogosphere discussion. To follow the discussion, follow the #uglygarden hashtag on Twitter.

37 comments

Seed Haul!

This is what I got in the mail the other day:

Oh, yes. It was a fun mail day!

Here are the seeds we ordered so far this year:

Seed Savers Exchange:
Beans, ‘Good Mother Stallard’
Beans, ‘Hidatsa Shield Figure’
Beans, ‘Ireland Creek Annie’
Corn, ‘Golden Bantam Improved’
Ground Cherry, ‘Aunt Molly’s’
Pea, ‘Amish Snap’
Pepper, ‘King of the North’
Squash, ‘Long Island Cheese’
Watermelon, ‘Petite Yellow’

Botanical Interests:
Bean, ‘Contender’
Bean, ‘Trionfo Violetto’
Broccoli Raab
Kale, ‘Lacinato’
Kale, ‘Red Winter’
Tomato, ‘Cherokee Purple’

Also, I bought some seeds at Lowe’s over the weekend:
Burpee:
Basil, Lemon
Basil, Sweet
Chamomile
Catnip
Microgreens, ‘Rainbow Blend’

Ferry Morse:
Lemon Balm

I’m finishing up my last order (I think…) for Renee’s. Once I get that in, I’ll post again

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