Garden Enthusiast

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When Jenna was three she discovered some blue gravel that had been dumped by the shed.  Biff had left it there after cleaning out a fish tank.  Jenna thought that they were beautiful seeds and wanted to plant them.  I tried to explain that they weren’t seeds – but she was insistent that we bury them so that they would grow into a beautiful flower.

Everyday she would check the spot where the “seeds” had been planted – impatient that the flowers had not bloomed overnight.  Again, I tried to explain to her that even if the seeds had been real seeds – flowers do not spring up overnight.  It takes time.  Especially in our family, it seems.

Jenna did not stop checking.  She was determined that her flower would grow.  She watered the area.  She talked to it.  She was certain that a flower would grow.  I really did not want her to be crushed and so devastated that she would not want to try real seeds later on. 

I went out and purchased two pinwheel type garden decorations and put them in the ground above where the gravel had been “planted” – real as the seeds.  Jenna was thrilled.  And so when the time came for the preschool students to grow their own seeds she was not at all reluctant.  Her bean would grow just as her flowers had.  It was very exciting.

Jenna also liked snails.  They were very fascinating creatures.  She would watch them and talk to them.  One day she found a whole family of snails.

“Look mom!” she pointed with sheer excitement, “A mommy, a daddy, two teenagers, and a little bitty baby.”

She stopped to talk to them.  I gave her about ten minutes before I reminded her that we had barely just left the house and had to continue on our way to school.

“Bye snails,” she waved and continued on her way.  She was so disappointed that they weren’t there as we walked back from school – nor were they there the next day. 

Perhaps a week or two had gone by before she found three snails out on the sidewalk near our house.

“Do you think these are the same ones?” she asked.  “I wonder what happened to the parent and the other teenager.  Maybe they’re out looking for food.”

It was a year and a half later when Amber’s mom asked if she could leave Amber with me as she a mandatory class for her work.  I told her that I had planned on going to Midvale to pass out invites for my mom’s surprise birthday party but I could take Amber just as well – and that was fine.  Amber came with car seat and I strapped both girls into the car.

It was nice having them with me as I could just hand each of them invitations and give them direction to take it to this house or that and then I didn’t have to keep stopping the car and turn the motor off to do it myself.

When we got to Ruby’s house, I had only five invitations left.  The girls found a haven in Ruby’s yard, and I asked Ruby if it would be okay if I left the girls with her while I went and got the last five.  

Ruby was working in the garden and her yard was lovely.  She was digging holes and making remarks about “all the snails” Both Jenna and Amber perked up and assisted Ruby by picking up snails and each started her own collection.

When I returned, the girls had lined their snails up on the table and were eagerly watching them “race” as they’d speak words of encouragement hoping that one of her snails would win.  Jenna announced that we’d be taking them home.

“Snails don’t belong in the car!” I said firmly.  “Not my car anyway.  Even if they’re in containers.  We are not taking the snails home.  Sorry”

I think Ruby distracted them with something else.  I believe we threw the snails away.  Ruby and I told both girls that snails are bad for the garden.  I don’t think Jenna believed me.

She wasn’t reading when I purchased a kid’s gardening book at a thrift store. We looked at it.  I pointed out that snails were in the “pest” category.  But then so were caterpillars – her absolute favorites creature.  A book against snails and caterpillars certainly was not a book that she was interested in.  I put the book away and forgot about it.

 Recently, while searching for something else, I came across the Kid’s Gardening book.  She has been reading it and telling us everything that we’ve been doing wrong in our home garden and how to improve it.  She still loves snails and caterpillars but has accepted that they do damage to gardens. But they are fascinating creatures and she loves them.

Some of us are gardeners that plant and sow seeds.  Some of us plant actual seeds.  Some of us bury gravel or “magic beans” in the ground and leave it at that.  Some of us work like lady bugs or bees and help the garden.  Some of us are like snails and caterpillars that crawl through life expecting free handouts without working for it.  And it doesn’t matter our capacity.  God loves each of us.  He doesn’t attempt to throw any of us away.  His love for us is perfect. Even more than Jenna loves snails.

You’ve got to be kidding me

I had once heard a commentary that if you kill a spider, at least three more will show up for its funeral.  My husband said that isn’t true.  But it sounds accurate to me.

I went out to the garden on Tuesday.  I weeded so much of it.  I can actually tell the grass blades from the onions now.  But it’s not the naughty grass blades or even the net from this post that now give me trouble.  It’s the blasted pigweed that I wrote about in this post over a year ago.  

 

It’s back – right after I got rid of it – I couldn’t believe the growth that had taken place overnight.  I kid you not.  It had completely grown back (and then some) overnight and I have come up with even more uncouth descriptions of the pigweed that seems to live up to my first paragraph – only a pigweed instead of a spider with over 500 funeral attenders.  Give me a break. 

At first I did not realize that it was pig weed as I have never seen it quite that small before.  It’s easy to pull – but still.  Is that really how I want to spend my summer?  Pulling roots every single day?  The answer is NO – as previously mentioned, I don’t even want to be outside if it’s over 72 degrees out.

The first pigweed came up in the row of beets.  Excitedly I wondered if it was a beet and had gone to the computer in search of images that might show leaves of newly sprouted beets or pigweed.  Turned out to be the latter.  I found this picture among my search.

Perhaps I should it as it can be grown without my even trying.  For step by step instructions at click here.

Oh, how I wish our produce would grow like pigweed!  How amazing that would be to pull one tomato from the vine only to have ten more hanging there the following day, and then 80 and 400.  We’d only have to plant one of each plant and still have plenty because it would be growing rapidly as pigweed and we actually might not be able to keep up with it.  But there would be plenty to share with the neighbors who are in condos and do not have land for their own gardens.

Exploring is a Natural Part of Childhood Growth

Someone from the community garden had made the comment that each of our kids will look back to the days they went exploring and played while their parents worked in the garden.  Jenna has always found pleasure in farm equipment and likes to pretend she’s driving the broken down tractor, but she is especially enthralled when Parker comes to the garden with his parents.

Last Monday there were four of them who went exploring.  Jenna wore my garden hat, and it made for a cute picture – though I did not have my camera to capture the children as they prodded and poked through the trees.  Watching the four of them reminded me of my own youth when my brother, cousins and I would explore beyond Grandma Helen’s backyard and delighted in our adventures – well, at least two of us did.

Grandma’s house was located on a hill right behind the Salt Lake City capitol building.  I have the fondest memories of her house.  At the time, I did not realize that Grandma had designed the house – her dream house.  I don’t know if she described what she wanted and had somebody else draw the blue prints or if I misunderstood altogether – but I had heard that she designed it – though I do not know to what extent.

I think if I try to count how many rooms were in that house, I will forget a few as it’s been several years since Grandma left her house on the hill and moved into a condo that seemed more convenient as far as upkeep and being closer to where her boys lived.  I was the same age as Jenna is right now – so obviously your perception of life is a lot different at age nine than almost 51. 

I remember there was a door on every room and one to the hall and that if we shurt every door we could shine the projector on the wall and watch cartoons.  I remember spending the night and sleeping in the bedroom with the twin beds and yellow bed spreads.  I remember practicing skits near the fireplace in the basement.  I remember the excitement of discovering the cellar and all the other rooms in the basement.  I remember losing a boat load of toys in the bushes outside.

Grandma had a snowball bush and I remember one year when we tore off all the snowballs and jumped into them the way one jumps into leaf piles in the fall.  We had a lot of fun – but when grandma had learned what we had done, she was mad.  I don’t remember her ever becoming that angry with us.

Sometimes we would actually venture away from the property.  Explore abandoned cars, try to hike to the W (I think it was a W – four burnt logs on the hill – or so I believed) and fearing those riding dirt bikes and motorcycles. I think we may have tried walking to the capitol building – though we never made it.

Roaming Lacy’s property is not quite the same as exploring the hills behind the capitol.  It does make me smile to watch Jenna make discoveries.  I’m sorry that she will never know the house where my grandma lived.  Corey and Kayla both missed out as well.  The condo was the only house they ever knew with grandma – though Corey is familiar with the concept of the house on the hill – because there are pictures.  But he was just a baby when she moved.  He wasn’t even walking, I don’t think.

There are pictures of each of us at mom’s house – different years and different furniture.  The evolution of rainbirds and manually turning the on the water as opposed to the automatic sprinkler system and dry grass and garden attempts to baby tree landscape to huge trees that Anna and Garrett will never know.

Memories.  That’s all they are now.   

"And Ye Shall Plant a Garden . . ."

 We planted beans, beets, onions, and peppers.  Roland asked if we should do corn or tomatoes again.  I don’t really care about the corn, but I do enjoy being able to eat tomatoes off the vine rather than paying an outrageous price at the store for something that just isn’t as good.

But there were plenty of tomatoes with the community garden last year – and as Roland donated all our tomato cages to the cause – we decided that we would just use the tomatoes from the community garden and that would be enough. 

It was overcast and cool.  Roland wanted to finish before any rain fell down.  The dirt looked light and dry as it spit around the cultivator.  We dug holes for seeds and plants and planted stakes at each end and tied string from one end to the other and were pleased.  Though Roland seemed to want more.

Lacy and her husband have a fair amount of property.  I would guess roughly about three or four acres – but that is just a guess.  There’s a bunch of us who have used a patch of their land for our community garden.

Dan is in charge and had scheduled for those that had contributed to come plant on Saturday.  That cancelled due to the rain but we were asked to come on Monday night and dress appropriately for possible mud.  And so the community garden was put on hold.

Monday Roland returned from work with six tomato plants and corn and strawberries.  He always wants to plant strawberries – but we haven’t been very successful with fruit (except for the tomatoes – which are technically a fruit) .  We’ve tried blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, melons, grapes.  We get apples on our apple trees, but we don’t eat them.  We did eat the plums from the trees when we lived in our first house. Somebody else planted them.  They seemed to grow fine without our help.

Since we don’t have the tomato cages anymore, Roland used some signs that he had from his last job – another of his creative solutions. Thus we stood the frames next to the plants  for the tomatoes to lean against when they become large like the first sets we grew.

So we found a couple of areas and Roland cultivated the land.  It had been raining all day and the soil looked rich and dark – but it wasn’t muddy.  The sun was beating down while we were planting.  We both wore hats.  The one that I wore I had purchased specifically for gardening as it shaded me.  Roland wore a safari hat.  But the shadow of him wearing the hat made him appear to be an actual farmer. My shadow gives off the image of a true gardener (LOL)

Just as we had finished, it grew overcast again.  And then we went over to the community garden to plant and covered each plant with milk cartons to keep the birds away.  But I see another definite plus with the milk cartons – when the weeds start popping up, it will be easier to tell which are weeds and which are plants.  Pull everything NOT surrounded by milk carton.

I can’t remember if Dan said if we were planting fruit or not.  Those that couldn’t show on Monday were requested to come Wednesday to plant corn, beets and pumpkins (Corey refers to the squash varieties of the Y’s of the fruit world; you know how Y can act as either a consonant or a vowel in the English alphabet.  Squash and tomatoes, pumpkins . . . they’re all a part of the fruit family though most people consider them to be vegetables)

  

 Seems more peppers were added to the crop this year – and more varieties.  I personally don’t care if a chili pepper or jalepeno pepper ever make an appearance in this house. 

Roland and I grew pumpkins one year – we were hoping for the kind that can be carved into Jack-o-lanterns, but they were an unfamiliar squash that we could only paint faces on.  Or in this case: 

Planting Another Garden

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Everything I know about garden could be written on a 3X5 card – perhaps with room to spare.  We lived in the same stake as Joy Bossi – who hosted the program “Joy in the Garden” Our two wards shared the same church building and we could there on Thursday afternoons to listen to her words of wisdom on what we needed to do to prepare for and grow gardens.

 

In our particular neighborhoods the soil was not great for growing much other than weeds.  One thing that I remember learning was to make several holes in the bottom of a plastic wading pool (the kind that you can find in stores) and fill it with great soil and mix it with manure that was purchased from a gardening store.  Roland and I tried it.  And we did have growth, but very little in the way of onions.

 

Last night Roland and I made another attempt at a garden this year.  From seed we planted beans and beets and pepper plants and onions. We had tried onions again after moving to West Valley (which does have much much better soil than what we had in Kearns)  - they came out like pearl onions in which about nine onions would equal a small onion used for cooking.  I think it only lasted for three meals.

We have grown beets before.  They did well for us.  And actually so have tomatoes – at least certain varieties.  Roland chose not to do tomatoes this year, as there seemed to be plenty from the community garden last year. 

Peppers have never grown for us.  I think this is our third year trying.  And I don’t remember beans growing so I don’t know if we’ve already attempted them or not.

Dan has put himself in charge of the community garden – though all those who would like the benefits of community harvest are expected to participate in the garden’s upkeep.  And Roland had asked tons of questions last year.  This is the first year we have used string to mark where the plants are.  I hope it helps – I am often pulling at plants instead of weeds.

I heard it raining quite early this morning.  I hope it didn’t wash away any of the seeds. We were going to start with the community garden this morning, but it looks like it's been postponed to Monday night because of the weather.  Maybe I can watch Ester this morning.

Weeding out the Red-Rooted Bastard

          I once heard the following about an elderly woman with a very nice garden.  Someone had asked how she maintained without weeds.  She had set a goal to pull 15 a day.  I’m guessing she didn’t have to deal with pigweed.

          I actually have two nicknames for the weed that springs back to life the minute it is pulled.  The more offensive name mentioned in the title of this post and “Rapunzel” – though I think it grows much faster than Rapunzel’s hair.  But unlike Rapunzel’s hair, there is absolutely nothing special about it.  It’s a weed.  A multiplying undying weed.

          I will pull them up by their roots.  I will have a tremendous pile of these red-rooted pigweeds – more outside of the garden than inside.  It seems for every one I’ve pulled at least four to seven have grown back in its place.  How am I supposed to keep up with that?  And if we don’t pull them now while they are sprouts, they will be much harder to pull.

          When we moved into this house, there was a large tree growing near the house.  The neighbors’ driveway was starting to crack as the roots were pushing into the foundation.  She called it a trash tree and said it needed to be removed. The stump still remains in our yard and thus we haven’t seen the roots attached.  I’m certain that they are red (or were – it’s possible that they have died off by now)

          When I first saw the pigweed sprout up, I was certain that they were/are daughters of the trash tree – that could have been something else.  Whatever it was it wasn’t intentionally planted.  It just grew there and made a mess.

          I remember hearing the Biblical stories of Joshua defeating different cities with the instruction and help of our God.  They had to kill babies.  Little babies.  Innocent babies.  That bothered me for the longest time – because all babies are born innocent.  Even Hitler (no matter how hard to believe) was born innocent.  And yet that would have been the best time to get him – drop him, strangle him, drown him . . .

          There are so many films and themes and movies devoted to time travel.  What if?  What if we could save Kennedy?  What if we could destroy Hitler before he even knew what power was?

          One show depicts the midwife taking the baby and throwing it in the river.  Mrs. Hitler is devastated and insists that the child is replaced.  A kidnapped baby is brought to her that she may raise him as her own.  She calls him Adolf.

          And no matter how often the attempt to save him is made, Pres. Kennedy always ends up getting killed.  It has already happened.  Though the idea of traveling back in time to save him is appealing, it does not exist.  He died at the hands of whom?  Lee Harvey Oswald?  A conspiracy perhaps?

          When I think of the weeds and the time traveling non-changes, it makes it easier to understand and accept scriptures like Joshua 6:21.   

How Does Your Garden Grow?

          My husband is from the garden state – which does not necessarily make one a gardener – just as living in Utah for all of one’s life does not necessarily prepare one to have ever gone skiing. 

          I have always had a white thumb.  One look at my grass implies all gardening skills.  Water alone does not produce green.  With our yard, it is morning glories.  Not just this house – but every house I have lived in.  The lawn is usually always somewhere between brown and albino.  And frankly, I don’t blame the grass for drying up.  I don’t blame any vegetation for not wanting to peek its head out into the scorching sun.  I certainly don’t wish to be in it.

          My husband has tried.  For almost each year that we’ve been married, we’ve attempted the garden thing. We got some really tall tomato plants in the first yard where we lived.  Tall plants – no tomatoes though. 

          One year we tried zucchini.  Most Utahans who have planted zucchini have produced tons more than desired or expected. Surely we could grow something that seemed so plentiful.  We got one – the size of a small pickle.

          And one year Roland brought in an excavator and tore up our backyard – with earth which appeared to contain at least 70% rock (more rock than dirt) gads – no wonder nothing would grow for us!

          We tried growing onions in an old swimming pool – filled with fresh dirt and manure and all the fine things that the most of experienced gardens use – with a thin layer of compost.  Not all of the onion plants turned into onions.  And all of them were small.  Perhaps two or three times smaller than the bulb that was initially planted.  I think we were able to use them for only two or three meals.  Or was that our current house?

         

          I think the former owners (or maybe even renters?) of this house thrived on gardening.  There are pocketed areas separated by cement all throughout the yard.  The first year we planted peppers, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, beets, melons, strawberry, blueberries, carrots, grapes, onions, cauliflower, broccoli, and kohlrabi (whatever that was; the last three mentioned plants we received for free) and pumpkins.

          Of course the kohlrabi grew – we turned it into coleslaw (as I hadn’t a clue what else to do with it) but I am not a huge fan of slaw and the last kohlrabi that came out totally got out of hand – it was too tough and too big to deal with.  So we ate two of the four plants and ended up giving one away.

          The broccoli and cauliflower both got buds – and we may have even had a sample of the broccoli – but that is all it was.  Neither one grew well enough to feed us.

          I believe that the blue berry bush bit the dust the second it was planted – but perhaps that’s just me.  We did get maybe five strawberries – and that was it for the fruit.

          The wind blew the neighbor’s fence over on our peppers like two days after they were planted.  We planted more – but peppers just don’t want to grow for us.  And neither did cucumbers. 

          The beats and tomatoes did well – in fact they flourished – but there was a pathetic amount of production with everything planted between.  No cucumbers.  About three to five finger sized carrots (we planted regular carrot size) and a really bitter lettuce which was long like a boa. 

          Last year we tried peppers, corn and two tomato plants instead of six.  Though we attempted to plant the corn in strait lines, some of the seeds spilled and the seven ears that were produced grew in random areas.  No peppers again.   I think we got four pumpkins - two average size and two that were small. Our tomatoes did well. 

          I don’t know why we didn’t do tomatoes this year.  Roland wanted to try corn again.  We planted in a different area.  I thought I was watering in vein until Roland pointed out the one stalk that is growing.  OOO – one stalk.  Nothing near it to germinate.  Marvelous! So I don’t guess we’ll be getting corn this year from our personal garden . . . the community garden perhaps.

          The community garden is quite beautiful actually.  And we’ve already received from it.  Roland made a salad with radishes.  We’ll probably get some squash tomorrow night.  And we’re probably just as awesome at preparing squash as we are at having green grass.

          I think next year we ought to stick to just beats and tomatoes.