This year was my first attempting a full-blown vegetable garden, and now that autumn has really hit I would say it was a modest success–by which I mean, I finally managed to keep a tomato plant alive for the full growing season. The hopes for the garden were, perhaps, a little too optimistic–I probably planted two dozen different types of plants in the half a dozen plots I have in my back yard. That’s part of the challenge of gardening though: adjusting based on what is working and what isn’t. Next year I know not to over-plant, and I’ve noticed what thrives (and, more often, what doesn’t) in which areas. Gardening, though I’ve been around it all my life, does not come easily to me. My mom has degrees in horticulture, my paternal grandparents always tended their backyard garden, but I get frustrated by it. I don’t have much of a green thumb, and I take my failures like insults. I try so hard, and more often than not my plants don’t do well if they survive at all. This garden of mine is my lesson in attention and patience.
When I was in middle school, my mom started a produce farm on the eight acres of land we had around our house. I don’t remember doing a whole lot of the hard work myself–my brother and I were also home-schooled around this time–but I remember having a plot where I could grow whatever flowers I wanted. We would peddle the fruits of my mother’s labor at the farmers’ market or under a rainbow umbrella in a busy area, and I would arrange the flowers I harvested into bouquets to sell. The flower plot itself was thick and bushy–another example of over-planting–but I loved to see them all pushed up against each other in a long, bushy row. I know there were zinnias, sunflowers, bachelor’s buttons, and cockscomb, but I’m sure there were a couple more varieties that I’ve forgotten over the years.
Growing flowers reminds me most often of my grandma, who always cared for big patches of roses, hydrangeas, daffodils, and peonies; when the right season started up, I always stopped by to get myself a vase full to bring home so my whole house would smell intoxicatingly sweet for a couple weeks. I grew flowers this year too, and although I let them mostly to fend for themselves they surprised me with some pretty gorgeous blooms. Most of what came up were cosmos, forget-me-nots, and a few little zinnias. When my friend died unexpectedly a couple weeks ago and my cosmos were still popping out dozens of electric pink blooms (my friend’s favorite color) into the beginning of Scorpio season, I couldn’t help but think the flowers were thriving in honor of them. I miss my friend terribly, and all I wanted to do at that moment was share those stunning pink petals with them. I thought of pulling them up, tying them by their roots to paper lanterns, and sending them up into the sky with their bright faces watching the earth shrink underneath them–but I’m sad to say I don’t believe in the afterlife enough to go through with it.
After the winter, I plan to clean out my plots and give the dirt some much-needed love (and compost). The spring’s planting outlook is going to be pared down to the plants that I know can handle my gardening tendencies: that’d be flowers, pole beans, blackberries, kale, and beets. A reasonable crew for me to handle. This year has been a difficult one personally, but having the ritual of care for my plants has helped to give me the perspective (and sunshine when I seldom wanted to be outside) that I needed. Next year, I plan to fail a little less frequently and to learn what to do differently when I inevitably do.
honey gaze 