From My Garden . . .

Old McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O. The lovely Madelyn Simone and I sing these words with gusto, but I am definitely not a farmer by nature or nurture. Raised in suburban Buffalo, and residing in urban areas for most of my adult life, I've not experienced life on a farm like Old McDonald, and have no urge to add a chicken or cow to our homestead here in Ashland. But after a pitiful rookie attempt at a garden last summer, I was determined to find out if I had any speck of green on my thumbs, or if my house-plant killing reputation would extend to any semblance of a garden.

My desire to have tomatoes on our summer table spurred me on as I cast a longing eye on the small plot of land I'd attempted to cultivate last summer. That spot sat in the shade about 95% of the day, resulting in a pitiful crop. Unbeknownst to me, Jeff, our super-neighbor, had witnessed my feeble efforts, and decided to clear a spot behind our garage/barn and haul in some topsoil, providing me a great place for a few tomato and pepper seedlings. I'd watched his flourishing garden last summer with envy, and his thoughtful gesture was quite the gift to this budding gardener.

Jeff's garden began its days in an orderly fashion. He laid the weed-preventing material on top of the soil, placed his tomato plants in neat rows, with custom-made cages designed to guide the growing branches, and had a separate bed for squash and cucumber vines. By the first of July, his plants looked terrific, with tiny tomatoes appearing almost overnight.

Then there was my garden. I started with tomato plants, but I only had 4 stakes left over from last year, and I never did get to the store to get enough for all my plants. I put out some pepper plants as well, and a couple of cabbage, wanting to provide for Peter Rabbit and his cousins. I planted green and yellow beans, Swiss Chard, cucumbers, and three kinds of squash, and look - there's room for another row of beans between the tomato plants. I was so excited - I could taste those veggies already.

They say a watched pot never boils, but I still checked the garden every day, and one morning, there were hundreds of tiny plants peeking through the soil. Wow, I thought, I can't wait to see what these are. "Weeds," said Jeff, and thus began my short-lived attempt to weed the garden. Most were morning glories and some other creepy plants, but as the days progressed, another weed appeared with a root resembling a gigantic turnip or rutabaga. I knew that cutting off the spikes that stretched above ground wouldn't solve the problem, so I hacked at its massive root as best I could. It worked for about a month, but when I got back from vacation, guess what greeted me?

Finally, the beans began to sprout, but there was nothing growing in the spot where I'd planted the Swiss Chard, so I tried again with beets - but all I've got in that patch is one towering Swiss Chard plant - time to put that on our menu.

Looking at my garden today, one phrase describes it perfectly - it's a hot mess! Due to my overzealous, haphazard planting, beans are nestled among the cabbage and peppers, squash vines have commandeered the yard, and tomatoes lie strewn in the dirt. The pretty purple flowered morning glories are attempting to squeeze the life out of the cucumber vines, but the cucumbers are winning that battle. I've learned some gardening lessons, pocketed a number of sermon illustrations, and savored the best BLT's in the world. Hot mess or not, I love my garden.

I may not be a country girl at heart, but I've experienced the truth of May Sarton's words this summer: "Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace." Now, if I can just figure out how to make pickles!