My Mom and Me and the Garden

The older I get, the more I realize how much I'm like my mother. For example: If you had asked me 10 years ago whether I liked to garden, my answer would have been, "Gardening sucks." Because back then, it was a chore. If my brother and I wanted to go swimming, we had to weed the garden first. If I wanted that new book/toy/art supplies, I had to help in the garden. And, let me tell you, there is nothing worse to a 13-year-old who can't stand to get her hands dirty than pulling weeds.

Now, I have my own garden. And, yes, it was my idea. But I also have the tools that I need to make it easier. Namely, gloves. I also have a hand rake and shovel. A hoe that has a smooth, splinter-less handle and a water hose. (No more hauling water by buckets for me.) And I've also planted exactly what I wanted to plant exactly where I wanted to plant it. And the best thing? There is no stingweed in our yard. (Have you ever gotten into a patch of stingweed? Think thousands of cinders in your skin.)

So, now, I can see why my mom always insisted we have a garden. Why she spent countless hours with nothing more than a hoe and a helpful chicken (to eat the grubs) when she knew that, in the end, the weeds would win. But I'm a little different than my mother as well. Because I know that the best time to get out and weed a garden is when the weeds are just teeny little things and easily plucked. She waits until they're up to her knee. (Also, she planted her garden at the end of our bermuda grass lawn... it doesn't take much for bermuda grass to take over.) I also tend the garden in the early morning or late evening, when its cool. She usually had us out there when it was the hottest (probably a secret punishment).

But I've realized that I love plants. I love the smell of them, the brightness on dark soil, the pleasure of seeing them flourish under my care. There's something relaxing and rejuvenating about spending time just weeding a garden, too. It's work that relaxes... kind of like yoga but without all the weird poses.

I keep looking forward to the day when I'll have my own land to do with as I please. When you rent a place, it's all about getting permission first. And, if you do get permission, then you do what work you do knowing that one day you'll have to leave it... and that is painful.

But, anyway, going back to my mom, its strange how some things you think you'll never pick up from your parents sticks with you until the right moment. One day, you're at the farmer's market and you're like "OMG, I'm actually enjoying this!" and "I've become my mother."

Fortunately, that's not a bad thing. :)