Friday, June 24, 2011


I did a little gardening today.  Been trying to spruce up the front flower beds.  I'm not a garden artist; I plant and hope for the best.

My front flower bed needed a little border around it (and the bed on the other side of the door needed a pick-me-up), so I added some impatiens.  Meaning no offense to any gardener who might be reading, planting impatiens feels, to me, like serving TV dinners.  I bought them ready-made, dug a hole, and called them mine.

We had a little garden in our back yard when I was growing up.  It was about 20 x 10 feet, and each of the four of us had a section to plant.  We grew vegetables - tomatoes, corn, carrots, and a little lettuce.  There was also the famous Radish Year, which was the year we each planted a gazillion radishes, then realized we all hated them.  My father, who grew up during the Great Depression and couldn't bear to waste food, ate radishes at every meal and then some.  Gardening, when I was a kid, was about digging, planting seeds, nurturing tiny seedlings, and a long, work-heavy process before fresh veggies were served for dinner.

I planted my impatiens and considered how life has changed.  I've always dreamed of raising vegetables and flowers from seeds with my kids.  We've tried a number of times, but have never been successful.  The poison of neglect always kills any chance of a crop.  The one exception has been cherry tomatoes, and those were grown from plants purchased at a store.  To be honest, I lack the wherewithall to prepare peat pots, care for tiny seedlings, turn the soil, plant, water, weed, and stake.  It's a faster-paced life, at least for me, and I lack the determination to slow it down enough to watch the plants grow.

I'm glad for my impatiens, but sorry for my impatience.

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