With the calendar approaching the official end of winter and the beginning of spring, I thought I would present you an installment about one of the joys of upcoming warmer weather and the change of seasons here in America's Heartland.
Gardening. The absolute thrill of growing a tomato and finally pulling it off the vine, cutting ripe okra stalks from the growing plant, turning a melon over a couple of times to see if it is ready to harvest, or merely cutting some beautiful flowers from a bed you have carefully tended for several weeks is such a pleasure to experience. I know first-hand about these things, because my memory bank returns me to my father's yearly "truck garden", the term he used for his outdoor plantings. The official name, according to its principal caretaker, Col. C.H. Breedlove, was the "Horn of Plenty Farms, Stillwater Division". It had such a specific name because my older brother and sister each had their separate garden divisions in Maryland and Arkansas, respectively. My father's plantings were on a large piece of property he owned on West 9th Avenue, a couple of blocks west of Western Road, and downhill a slight distance into the floodplain. Like most gardeners of today, dad would begin his yearly preparation in late winter, by plowing the ground several times, loosening the packed soil. This would sometimes be followed with fertilizing the entire plot, but not always. Then, as time passed and the soil gradually warmed, he would start planting his various crops; onions, beans, yellow squash, zucchini squash, cucumbers, okra, corn, tomatoes, sometimes melons, and several types of peppers, He paid to have a shallow water well dug on-site, so his produce received the much-needed moisture required during Our Town's hot/dry season in his plants' growth cycles. We also always had to battle the produce- eating insects! Battling the bugs wasn't too much fun as I recall thinking back.
When produce harvest time rolled around, he would literally take brown paper grocery sacks to his garden, cutting the ripe plants and filling the sacks. Next, he would proudly place the sacks in our family car, and off we would go, leaving them at his many friends' homes. He would place his full sacks in front of their front door, if they were not home. Legend had it, he brought SO much of his garden produce to his friends, they would see him drive up, and the occupants would run out their back doors, unseen, because they had not eaten all the last free produce he had brought them. I don't know if this tale is correct or not, but know if made a wonderful story to tell!
My Lady Deborah and I have attempted to grow a few veggies of our own, during our 4-plus decades of marital bliss. She has successfully grown tomatoes, peppers, flowers, and various ornamental plants and flowers. I think my earlier-years green thumb must have lost its color over the many decades since I was my father's little garden helper. My "Johnny Appleseed" former trait has been a pretty much a "no show" over time in Our Town. Oh, well, I do know, via my mind's eye, what it takes to be an excellent gardener, aka, my father. Thanks, dad!
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