Arizona Victory in the Garden

You reap what you sow is the old adage that has become my own personal farming mantra. This past Christmas, my Zen-husband Jeffrey gave me a garden for my holiday gift. No diamonds for me. Bags of manure were presented with tiddy bows. Complete with cool gloves, a new shovel and plenty of seed packets, I looked beyond my scraggly Christmas tree to the dry patch of earth in my backyard. A new farmer was born.
As soon as the Christmas ornaments were put away I was out in the back, scratching out plots of future bounty. It started with red concrete blocks that I purchased at Home Depot every few days in quantities of 10. I could only get a few of the heavy chunks of rough bricks in my car at a time. Maybe it would’ve been better to get a professional who could have used a brick making machine and supplied bricks for me as I needed them. But anyway, I’ve managed to get the blocks for now. I became best buddies with the Master gardeners at Bakers and perused the lanes of plants with the question What Would Mr. Baker Do? echoing in my mind.
Each night I lovingly read and reread my Sunset Garden books like they were trashy romance novels. I began to quickly notate my thoughts in the skimpy margins and even started my own gardener’s journal. “Oh, so that’s how you know if you are over-watering,” I would mutter.
I recommitted myself to our compost heap, doubling it in size and even trimming it in, nothing less than the matching red bricks used along our garden plots. Prepped and settled into the process of decomposition, I marveled at the process of transformation that our kitchen scraps and lawn trimmings go through. Even thought about getting a lawn care company like trugreen pennsylvania to come and visit to see if there was anything they could recommend for the lawn itself. Mildly obsessed could best describe my gardener’s journey.
It became evident that I was dreaming the verdant life of a vegetable gardener. Easy to do in the cool climes of the spring. Somehow I forgot that summer would come and sweat would become one of the watering sources in the backyard. But it is here and I am not the least daunted. Wilted yes. But my zeal for growing food has not been lessened one bit.
So now, I am invested in my own personal Victory garden. It has become the symbol of transition, hard work, patience, disappointment and the ultimate accomplishment. Who knew that a little red tomato could produce such a profound sense of mystery and joy? Who knew that I could swear like a sailor at the quail who have invaded my lettuce patch? Okay … maybe the swearing part isn’t such a stretch.
Gardening has mirrored my sense of time and place. It is the symbol of a life lost to city-dwellers, yet is one of the basic functions of humanity. How we feed our bodies and our souls is at the heart of reaping what we sow.
From the Heart…