The Garden

The Garden

By Dasha Davis

A change in season brings about a change in behavior as cooler weather creeps in. Our tans slowly fade as our arms and legs get covered, while flip flops are banished to the back of the closet. Darkness demands more and more time from our sun-lit day and the first frost threatens the future of our outdoor plants. As we harvest our beloved vegetables for the last time of the season, I begin to see and appreciate the connections between tending our garden of plants and our garden of life. 

 The art of gardening is fairly new to my husband and me. This is only our 4^th year to even have one, and it seems to get bigger every year. I had no idea how to start a garden that first year. I just knew I wanted one. So, I dug trenches out of the grass with a shovel and plopped in some plants.  I surrounded them with old newspapers to keep weeds out. I knew I did NOT want to pull weeds. When the wind blew, so did my papers, all across the neighbor’s yard. OOPS! I decided to weigh down the papers with bricks. In order to make it look more “natural”, I re-used grass clippings to camouflage the newsprint. It.   was.   a.   sight! – a true, red-neck garden. 

Our gardening process has come a long way in those four short years. Nowadays, the planning starts early.  Before winter is even over, we get our seed catalogs out and start discussing what plants we want for the upcoming season. We compare how well certain plants did and if we want to try something new. We make our wish list of things to order from Burpee Seed Company, map out the rows with the proper spacing on graph paper, and label where each plant will go. Somehow, thinking about our garden chases away the winter doldrums!

            As soon the ground is thawed, my husband starts tilling and working fertilizer into the dark, rich soil, at least 6 or 7 times before any plants even go into the ground.  Before it is warm enough to plant, he starts seeds just inside the window sill. He sprays the dirt daily with a clear plastic water bottle and labels popsicle sticks to identify each and every plant. There is something about watching a buried seed start to sprout that makes you appreciate the miracle and beauty of life. My twelve year old even got into the spirit this past spring with his choice of marigold seeds that he would spray daily, without fail. Oh, The Elation! when they start to peak out of the soil as the bright, warm, sun pours in through the back porch window. 

When planting time FINALLY arrives, we gather our fragile starter plants, seeds, twine (for measuring straight rows), scissors, hoe, trowel, rake, and the clipboard with the graph paper map. Once everything is planted, chicken wire is un-rolled around the perimeter and zip-tied to metal stakes for a make-shift fence in hopes of deterring rabbits and the neighbors’ dogs. 

            My husband nurtures the garden, routinely watering and checking on it when he comes home from work. Every year it gives us great joy to see how much the plants have grown or to pick newly ripened tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, or zucchini to eat for dinner that night. It is truly a labor of love.

One can imagine how PANICKED we were when we got a notice from our small town that we were on water restrictions due to the draught this summer. We couldn’t let our garden JUST DIE! Of course, I realize this is irrational. It is more important to have drinking water and be able to wash clothing and flush toilets… especially the flushing toilets part.  (read quietly), I suspect a “water ninja” came at night and watered our coveted plants. Luckily, this aptly-named water ninja didn’t get CAUGHT and FINED. 

            The end of the summer brought more than just water restrictions, it brought a new job for my husband. He was gone more and I was gearing up for the start of the new school year. Time got away from us as we became busier and busier. Unfortunately, we were not able to tend the garden like we wanted. Fast forward to October.  

As my husband and I start the process of harvesting our garden one last time before the first frost, I am filled with mixed emotions. I wonder if our tomatoes and peppers are salvageable. I notice not all the vegetables are rotten nor are the vines dead. In fact, it is surprising to me that the bad fruit is right next to the good. Life is a balance of ripe and rotten, like yin and yang.  Sometimes, it seems like it is ALL ROTTEN. We have plants that are brown, wilted and pitiful looking - certainly dead. But, they still have edible fruit! How could something that is seemingly dead still be productive? Ff I dig a little deeper, try a little harder, get past the dead leaves, I’ll find that perfectly shaped, sweet, vine-ripened tomato. 

 Our lives are like these plants.  One bad thing happens after another and it seems like there is no hope for fruit. But, even what seems dead and wilted can produce something worthwhile.  Even the compost of those dead plants will fertilize the soil for next year’s crop. Maybe, even some volunteer plants will appear when you least expect it! 

As we finish picking the last of our vegetables, I pass through the rows one last time and literally say “Goodbye” to the garden for one more season, realizing that this is all part of the life cycle. Things die at the end of their season.  The cold, winter weather must come and new growth goes dormant. Remember, though, next year in the spring, seedlings will thrust toward the heavens, brown will slowly turn to green, and new gardens will come alive again.