I love the idea of loving gardening.
I grew up with a woman (my mother of course) who was a gardening goddess. She would always said that when she died, she hoped she could be a gardener in heaven. Gardening was her passion. We lived on five acres of rich black dirt soil in upstate New York. She grew organic vegetables, flowers which were plentiful and gorgeous, strawberries on a little hill and she even had a small fruit tree orchard.
One would think that growing up in such an environment would naturally foster skills and a love for gardening. I should love it. I want to love it. I even cognitively have the knowledge to make it work.
But I don't.
I love being outside, hiking, walking, outdoor animals, etc., etc., etc..... but gardening is something I force myself to do.
It is sad, I know.
I remember as a child, as my mother and sister toiled in the dirt, I would volunteer to clean and make lunch for them. Even then, I got more satisfaction out of the kitchen toil then the garden.
Then, when my first child was born, a travesty in my own garden happened. I was extremely focused on keeping things natural and organic for my son. I made my own baby food and used organic fruits and vegetables. I decided to plant some tomatos. They were beautiful and the fruit were getting almost ready to pick. I was so excited.
Until, my husband caught my elderly next door neighbor, who was of Eastern European descent, dousing pesticide on them. He was trying to be helpful. Just like when he would go into our front yard and spray all of my dandelions with weed killer. I like dandelions. I don't like walking barefoot in my yard with dangerous chemicals. Needless to say, I was devastated. My tomatoes were ruined. And I really think that situation zapped any remaining love or desire to garden out of me.
In previous years, I have been able to put a blame on busy work schedules, small babies, and other situations as to why I didn't have a luscious garden. I always planted a few pansies, but that was the extent. And they didn't look happy.
This year, however, we happened to move into an army house in which a master gardener had lived previously. Although there are few plants left, she left this beautiful dirt. She composted and organically fed the dirt religously the past few years. So, I grit my teeth, and went to Lowe's and Home Depot and bought some plants and seeds. I had no patience, and angrily threw the seeds in haphazardly. And I didn't mark them. And I hardly planted in straight lines. I think I really didn't believe anything actually would grow from the seeds.
Much to my surprise, there are these little plants coming up! A couple of my mature plants died due to a late frost in April (it is Texas, who would have thought)
Although, I still do not relish my time in the garden, I am getting a small satisfaction at seeing these little plants shoot up. Maybe there is hope for me.
Look! Here is my baby lettuce.
And here are my sunflowers.
I grew up with a woman (my mother of course) who was a gardening goddess. She would always said that when she died, she hoped she could be a gardener in heaven. Gardening was her passion. We lived on five acres of rich black dirt soil in upstate New York. She grew organic vegetables, flowers which were plentiful and gorgeous, strawberries on a little hill and she even had a small fruit tree orchard.
One would think that growing up in such an environment would naturally foster skills and a love for gardening. I should love it. I want to love it. I even cognitively have the knowledge to make it work.
But I don't.
I love being outside, hiking, walking, outdoor animals, etc., etc., etc..... but gardening is something I force myself to do.
It is sad, I know.
I remember as a child, as my mother and sister toiled in the dirt, I would volunteer to clean and make lunch for them. Even then, I got more satisfaction out of the kitchen toil then the garden.
Then, when my first child was born, a travesty in my own garden happened. I was extremely focused on keeping things natural and organic for my son. I made my own baby food and used organic fruits and vegetables. I decided to plant some tomatos. They were beautiful and the fruit were getting almost ready to pick. I was so excited.
Until, my husband caught my elderly next door neighbor, who was of Eastern European descent, dousing pesticide on them. He was trying to be helpful. Just like when he would go into our front yard and spray all of my dandelions with weed killer. I like dandelions. I don't like walking barefoot in my yard with dangerous chemicals. Needless to say, I was devastated. My tomatoes were ruined. And I really think that situation zapped any remaining love or desire to garden out of me.
In previous years, I have been able to put a blame on busy work schedules, small babies, and other situations as to why I didn't have a luscious garden. I always planted a few pansies, but that was the extent. And they didn't look happy.
This year, however, we happened to move into an army house in which a master gardener had lived previously. Although there are few plants left, she left this beautiful dirt. She composted and organically fed the dirt religously the past few years. So, I grit my teeth, and went to Lowe's and Home Depot and bought some plants and seeds. I had no patience, and angrily threw the seeds in haphazardly. And I didn't mark them. And I hardly planted in straight lines. I think I really didn't believe anything actually would grow from the seeds.
Much to my surprise, there are these little plants coming up! A couple of my mature plants died due to a late frost in April (it is Texas, who would have thought)
Although, I still do not relish my time in the garden, I am getting a small satisfaction at seeing these little plants shoot up. Maybe there is hope for me.
And my herb garden is started to flourish too!
