Back in the day, gardening was a survival technique.
Families grew the food they needed on their own property. They used what they
could, shared with the neighbors, and spent hours preserving it for the leaner
days ahead. Trips into town were rare, and rarely needed.
Times have changed. We have become more mobile, and more
dependent on others to provide our food. For many, the joy of planting
something and watching it grow has remained. Hopefully, we have retained enough
knowledge in our DNA that we could revert to raising what is needed to support
ourselves.
In our family, we learned from the best. James’ parents
were serious gardeners. At times, they tended as much as half an acre, full of
every variety of vegetable you can imagine. Their freezer occupied nearly half
of the kitchen, and it was an ever present source of tasty, healthy goodness. The whole family learned well at their knees,
and on their knees, tilling, planting, weeding, waiting, and eventually
harvesting.
As the physical stress of maintaining the garden became too
much, Paw-paw transitioned to using five gallon buckets, which could be tended
to from a movable chair. After a move to a new location with very rocky soil, a
good friend brought a thoughtful gift, a load of rich soil dumped in the front
yard. By this time in his life, gardening was more than survival; it was a
source of comfort and security.
My own parents were not as dedicated to growing food at
home. My divorced Mom had very little time for such things, while working to
support us. We did have a small patch behind the garage that provided tomatoes
and pole beans. I saw this as a treasure hunt, and loved to venture out to see
what I could find. My Dad and his wife shared a spot a short distance from
their home in a modern sub-division. During our summer-time visits, I was in
charge of searching the cucumber patch, and was amazed at the speed with which
these little green wonders went from fingerlings to basket fillers.
While raising our own kids here in the Ouachita region, we
did dabble at raising veggies from time to time. Our yard in eastern Saline
County had a very fertile spot in the back corner, and it supported rows of
tomatoes, peppers, Brussels’ sprouts and okra. The kid’s grandparents actually
took more pride in this endeavor than we did. I remember at least one occasion
when James’ dad was out in the garden, whipping our okra plants into
submission. Although it sounds strange, his technique actually worked. After he
had removed the extra greenery, the energy of the plant went to producing
fruit- the slimy green pods that we loved to add to a pot of gumbo, or fry up
as a crispy treat.
Our daughter and her daddy also tended a smaller spot once.
All tomatoes, as I recall, She didn’t go for any of that other stuff.
At
the same house, our neighbor had a row of varied plants next to the chain link
fence that separated our yards. I didn’t mind that his vines crept up the
fence, because our agreement was that anything that managed to poke through the
holes and grow on our side belonged to us. Another chance to reap unexpected
treasures.
These
days, my gardening is purely decorative. We have some very nice flower beds
with a variety of seasonal and perennial plants. I retained the love for fresh
veggies in the summer, but my craving can be met with a trip to the farmer’s
market on the courthouse square. Also, of course, it helps that I am married to
the produce man in our local grocery.
In
the youngest generation, all is not lost. Our grand-daughter dearly loves planting
flowers, and the oldest grandson holds the record for the greenest thumb of
all. His success story started one evening when he was eating an apple at our
house, in the dead of winter. Having
learned that apples grow on trees which sprout from seeds, he wanted to plant a
tree of his own. We found a spot in my flower bed, and planted six seeds. Weeks
later, three tiny plants sprouted, and one actually grew into a tree that was
taller than the young dreamer’s grandpa! Because it was approaching the eaves
of our house, we had to move the sapling out into the yard, where it failed to
thrive. Partly, I am sure because of the bright summer sun, but mostly because
the possessor of the pixie dust lived several hundred miles away. It was a
lesson for all of us; that faith has as much to do with growing big and strong
as science ever could.
Enjoy
the fruits of your labor this year, and don’t forget to teach your kids and
grands about the wonders of God’s creation. The joys will return to you
ten-fold.
