Each spring, my father plants seeds in flats, placed by a full length window in his dining room. He does this sometime in early May, and then waits patiently for the seedlings to pop up. When they do, it’s like they grow an inch each day. The beauty of new life and growth erupts.
Gradually exposed to the outside sun, the plants become ready. It is then the right time to transplant them to the garden soil. Bending over and digging holes might seem like painful work, but as the fruit upon the vines grow large, he realizes the effort is worth the major toil.
Dad’s garden has always been quite large. Each year he swears he’ll make it more minute, but despite this vow he never does, instead his mind changes fast and a larger one wins in his self-dispute.
Dad’s garden produces much more than he can use, so he sets it out on a table at the end of his driveway. He uses an honor system of payment. “Pay what you want in this coffee can.” Most people pay a lot, but a woman named Sally pays naught. He’s learned when she comes, so removes his veggies at that time. He does this specifically as a ban.
I have had my own home for over 20 years now. My garden space is way too small to even need a plow. But I still grow my fair share of plants and herbs on and near my deck. I pull out my trowel and dig the holes with almost equal toil, the finished garden, to me, is well worth equal respect.
My husband and I sit on our deck surrounded by flowers and ferns. In the early spring we watch the birds vying for our seed feeder. Cardinals, blue jays, flickers, and finches each take their turns. When summer comes we switch to the hummingbird feeder. So far this year we’ve had two girls, and a boy competing from mornings to nights, but none of them have managed to win proprietary rights.
We rock back and forth on our rocking chairs, drinking tea with the mint that we grew. All the while the thirsty hummingbirds come and go with a zip and a zoom.
The lovely smell of perpetually blooming lilac delights our senses. Ahhh! What a sight, what sounds, and smells! We don’t need a bigger garden, we’re OK right where we dwell.