Gardening

We’ve had an unseasonably warm winter and springtime for our part of the Midwest. As Garrison Keillor puts it, “It’s been like climbing a mountain using a chairlift. It’s just not right.” Nevertheless, we are now surrounded by greenery that usually is not present until the middle of May. A hard frost hit us this week so a few flora species might be knocked back for awhile but the landscape is still looking quite verdant.

We have a beautiful garden every year, as well as gorgeous potted plants that greet me each morning with all their finery. I say “we” like I actually have anything to do with such horticulture greatness. The truth is that I am a nemesis to anything green and growing. My husband, however, comes from a long line of fabulous gardeners who can breathe life into the saddest of plants. It is thanks to him that I am blessed with vegetables, herbs and a plethora of leafy beauties.

My lack of enthusiasm for gardening was probably cultivated during my youth. Our large family had a very large garden, long before sustainable farming was fashionable. We weren’t gardening to be politically correct. We just needed more food to feed the family. We also had many hands to help tend the garden.

We grew tomatoes, beans, zucchini, summer squash, peas, cucumbers, tomatoes, Swiss chard, lettuce, radishes and whatever else we could reasonably order from the Gurney’s seed catalog. We had a large plot surrounded by a fence that kept the tender plants safe from country critters, cats, and an occasional wayward cow. It was located by the little chicken coop so we could peek in on the little baby chicks on our way to spring planting.

My least favorite task in the garden was picking beans. Oh how I dreaded the time when the blossoms started sprouting and my life would be consumed with picking, cleaning and canning hundreds and hundreds and yes, it felt like millions of beans. Ashamedly, I must admit that one summer I sang a little mantra as I picked the beans, “Pick a bean, pull a plant, fewer beans for next time.” I’m pretty sure one of my siblings squealed on me so I don’t think I maimed too much vegetation in the process.

One year my mother purchased a French bean slicer. As with all new gadgets there was a certain excitement generated from inserting a bean into the little hopper and watching a diagonally sliced bean emerge. This fun lasted for about three beans. French beaning was quickly added to my list of jobs that I worked hard to avoid. Our mother was very smart so my attempts at evading work were usually a wasted effort on my part.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm for gardening, I have never lost my love of garden vegetables. There is just nothing like picking a fresh, juicy garden tomato or cutting a handful of savory herbs. I like to cook so it is a blessing to have such goodness a few feet away from my kitchen. We pretty much gorge ourselves on whatever is popping out of the ground for the summer months, taking advantage of the break from frozen peas and corn.

And, yes, I think “we” might even plant a few green beans this year.