We all have triggers -- certain words that can take us right back to our past. In my past life, the word "broccoli" does that for me, and so does the word "groundhog". I have a love/hate relationship with both.
I grew up a city girl, transplanted to a farm in the country by marriage. My husband's parents lived down the road from us and they always put out a huge garden. My husband grew up on this farm, and knew a whole lot about what works in a garden and what doesn't work -- but I wasn't totally stupid -- even a "ferriner" [sic] could learn. I had resources. My aunt was the Ruth Stout of organic gardening. My friend, who lived on the other side of town, was the equivalent of Jerry Baker. She could teach me too. Over the years, by trial and error, with the help of friends and family, I learned how to put out gardens and reaped the harvests for our family.
The year I brought home six broccoli plants I purchased at the local MFA store, my husband shook his head. He said broccoli doesn't do well, and takes a lot of work. I had high hopes for success. I loved broccoli. I watched over the tender plants like they were my own babies. They had a special place in the garden -- in the first row closest to the gravel road. I gave them plenty of room. I worked the soil, watered, weeded, fertilized, and tended to the plants with great care. Weeks and weeks went by. They were growing! They were getting big! When I discovered the first thumb-sized heads, I got excited. My broccoli was looking great! That broccoli was just about ready for the dinner table.
My husband and our two girls planned an all-day fishing trip -- a great adventure -- and they left in the middle of the night. They told me they'd bring back fish for dinner. As I waved good-bye, I told them that along with the fish, we'd round out the meal with fried potatoes, broccoli from the garden, and cherry cobbler! Yummy!
I was looking forward to spending the day by myself. I was going to do some housecleaning, catch up on the laundry, make that cobbler, and maybe have some time to sit back, and just read.
From the back part of our house, you could look out of the windows and see the garden. While in the middle of cleaning the bathroom, I walked past the window. Where's the broccoli? What the heck was THAT? There he was -- up on his haunches -- a groundhog -- eating MY broccoli! I couldn't believe it! I could tell the groundhog had been there quite a while, having the time of his life -- chowing down! I was livid.
I ran downstairs. I went in circles trying to figure out what to do. YES! I'd shoot that groundhog. I went to the closet and got the pistol. I'm not a gun person. I had never shot a pistol before in my life, but I knew I could do this. That fat groundhog was destroying MY broccoli and he was going to pay. I would kill that groundhog. I ran back upstairs to the bathroom and slowly cranked the window open. I got ready. I took aim and pulled the trigger. The groundhog jumped up and ran out of the garden over the hill. I missed.
I ran to the phone and called my father-in-law. I hollered at him to come to the house right away and bring a gun. I told him a groundhog ate my broccoli; I shot at him, but missed. He had to come and kill that groundhog! My father-in-law drove up the hill, pulled in the driveway, and got out of the truck with his gun. We walked around the back to look for the groundhog. There he was -- sitting in the branches of our big dogwood tree right over the hill. My father-in-law took aim, shot -- and that groundhog hit the ground. YAY! Just as I realized he was dead -- the guilt washed over me. I felt terrible. I started to cry. The groundhog was deader than a doornail -- just because he was after my broccoli.
My guilt didn't last long. My father-in-law and I went to the garden to look at the broccoli. That rascal groundhog did a good job -- it looked like he took a chainsaw to it. There would be no broccoli for dinner that night...There would be no fish either. The fish my husband and kids caught that day were too small to keep. They came back home tired and cranky -- with a good dose of sunburn.
So...do you think you might be interested in gardening? Don't let my story discourage you. The story is the exception to all gardening adventures. I'm certainly not a vegetable garden or flower garden expert; but I do believe that anyone can garden if they want to. I could write about gardening until the cows came home, but that doesn't make you a gardener -- it's up to you to do this yourself.
However, I can tell you what you'll need: some soil, some seeds, some basic gardening tools, a water source, some sunshine, lots of determination, an open mind, and a willingness to work.
The first rule is: Use your resources. If you have a computer available (and you do because if you didn't, you wouldn't be reading this), you have a huge library right at your fingertips. If you don't have a computer, but you do have a library available in your area, your library will have many resources. If you know someone who gardens -- a friend -- family member -- neighbor -- you're lucky. People who garden are usually willing to share their wealth of information and are a great resource.
Gardening books and gardening websites are chock full of great information but you have to prepare to spend some time and do some serious reading. That's easy. All you have to do is type in the words "vegetable gardening" and begin.
By the way, if you're not sure who Ruth Stout was or who Jerry Baker is -- type their names into a search page too -- you'll learn a great deal from two bonafide gardening experts.
Here are a few gardening websites to get you started: Burpee's, Gurney's Seed & Nursery, The Backyard Gardner, The Savvy Gardener, & The Farmer's Almanac - Gardening
