Photo Friday: B"H, The Kids Are OK--And Other Lessons I Accidentally Learned as a FTG (First Time Gardener)

Today's post is a little bit different than my usual play activities with kids. Today, I'm welcoming you for a tour of my garden and how it drove me [a surprisingly short distance] absolutely crazy this summer...

The character Cliff Clavin from Cheers' once said "There's a fine line between gardening and madness." This spring after two summers of biting off more than I could chew in an attempt to bestow a love of gardening and green thumbs onto my children, I announced to my husband that I would only plant one or two things this year. Our first season here, I went bonkers with seeds and by the end of it, we had a decent harvest of cherry tomatoes, radishes, lettuce, peppers, beans and peas. But it was hot and miserable and after a while, I lost my gusto for gardening altogether. The remaining tomatoes went to seed surprising us with a forest of those little red buggers the next year. And the lettuce that bolted also made a reappearance early the next spring, when again, I went a little bit bonkers planting seeds only to give up as soon as I got too hot to schlep buckets of water outside. We have no hose hook-up and southern summers are hot and often dry.

I am a big believer in outdoor play and fresh Vitamin D, but I'm also realistic that no matter how much time and effort I put into setting up our play garden and growing my Nature-based Playgroup, there usually comes a point in the summer season at which I become a recluse and return to the comfort of my air conditioned home. So when I said I was only going to plant maybe one or two things this year, I meant it. Even as I left the hardware shop with five packets of vegetable seeds, I still meant it. And when I brought our double stroller with Y fast asleep and an empty seat plus two cup holders and the bottom basket reserved for starter plants and herbs at our Botanical Gardens annual Spring Plant Sale, I still meant it.

Those "one or two" seedlings started off really well...starter plants were a wise investment, because those gave me some instant gratification, and who doesn't like to gain an early harvest? But a week of torrential downpours and intense storms found our kitchen turning into a Displaced Plant Refugee Camp. I started waking up in the middle of the night worrying about my plants and that's when I realized a few things:

• Thank G-d, the kids are OK! If all I'm worrying about in the middle of the night is my garden, life is pretty good. I've finally surpassed the awkward years of FTM (First Time Mom) and transitioned into a FTG (First Time Gardener).

• I think I might have miscalculated when I said one or two things, but math was never my strongest subject...

and

• I think I like gardening!

but, I also think that maybe, just maybe, I've begun to step over that fine line between gardening and madness. And here's a few ways you can tell if, perhaps, you have, too:

• Thinning beets was as emotional a milestone as my son's upshernish. The only difference is that I ate the micro-greens....

• Radishes are super easy to grow and provide a harvest in just a matter of weeks. Unless you are me, and then, somehow, you are on your fourth attempt to grow anything but radish greens this summer...

• I ugly cried over a sunflower and a watermelon plant. Yeah, you read that right. I cried for like 45 minutes on July 4th because a certain member of our family who was very excited about some new gardening tools over-zealously trampled over our tallest sunflower and his beloved watermelon plant. Ever the optimist, he released the following statement: "But Mommy, watermelon plants are supposed to be floppy; they're vines!" 

Yes, little man, they are vines and vines are floppy. But even vines are supposed to remain attached to their roots...

• You may have crossed the line when you want to bring your container garden with you on vacation. Mobility is one of the great luxuries of growing an edible garden in containers, right? So is it so weird that I wanted maybe just to bring one or two of my favorite plants along on a road trip to New York City? Would it have been so odd to ask my garden sitter for just a photo or two or 459 of how my babies, I mean, plants were doing? Maybe we should just invest in a simple webcam system to, you know, keep an eye on things. I pulled one aphid off the squash plants before we left. One aphid. He could be calling 62 of his very best friends over for a dinner party as we speak....

• Less than an hour before Shabbos is the perfect time to tend to garden emergencies. So we got home from our road trip and after 10 hours in the car, with less than an hour until Shabbos, I saw our next tallest sunflower had flopped to the side while we were away. Yes, this was an emergency situation. No, the garden shop was not open this late. Yes, I was willing to forgo a shower and even meals for the next two days (thank you, amazing husband who already did most of the cooking in advance and Instant Pot for the fresh chicken soup). Now, what to use to stake up my sunflowers? Knitting needles and twine, of course! "Knot" bad, huh?

• Everyone worries about fertility sometimes. Some of us even obsess a little, and that's normal. Stepping outside at 7AM even before your morning coffee with a watercolor brush in hand to pollinate your yellow squash, mini pumpkin and mixed gourd flowers is also normal. Hand pollinating all male flowers is not normal. And also not effective. The good news is that the ladies have arrived! And so, too, have the actual [wiser] pollinators...

• You're going to Google things you never imagined you would Google. Weird things like "why are my pumpkin flowers all boys?" and "will my strawberry plant have more berries this summer?" and "why don't I have any radishes?" and "is it bad to release ladybugs not hatched in an insectory?" and "is there any way to put a broken watermelon plant back together?" (Incidentally, no, there is no way to put a broken watermelon plant back together...)

• "Maybe you're going about it the wrong way" my husband posited as I confessed my level of worry and concern over the garden one night. So and so already had cucumbers and tomatoes and zucchini and our cucumber died, our tomatoes were green and our squash flowers were having a hard time finding a shidduch. The apartment down the hill had sunflowers all the way up to their second story windows already in bloom and my two foot tall stalk was being held up by bamboo knitting needles and twine... And if radishes are so easy to grow, why have we had three cops of radish tops this year?? Maybe the soil was too wet. Maybe it's root rot. Maybe the greenhouse is too hot. Maybe I should have thinned them sooner. Maybe I would just plant seeds one more time and do NOTHING AT ALL. Famous. Last. Words. What Jewish mother does nothing at all? I can't very well water the chives right next to them and not give them anything! 

But my husband may have been right this time. Oy. He's going to read this and know that I said that. I hope it doesn't go to his head. Enjoying gardening should be, well, enjoyable. And it is! I love my morning inventory walk. I love seeing my kids out there--the human ones, too. I love the irony of pulling a suddenly dead succulent out of our Please Touch the Plants Garden only to discover that the succulent right next to it had a little baby! Kind of makes you want to start belting out "The Circle of Life," but after three days of painting pollen over my all-male flowers, I should probably lay low out back in case the neighbors are watching...

And gardens are a circle of life. Or a square. Or a massive blob in all directions... I planted these seeds to show my children a place where things can grow and flourish and inspire awe. Where G-d's miracles are visually present. Where it's OK to do everything right and still fail. Where it's also OK to do nothing at all and still succeed. Like so many aspects of life, gardening gives us the illusion that we are in control. That plants need us to grow and thrive and in reality, they don't. Ever seen a weed? And it's nice to feel in control. It's nice to feel needed. It comes with a burden but it also gives back, each and every time I carry in the latest harvest. And sure, I wonder why my peppers are so small or if I should have left that tomato on the vine a few more days or if I missed the boat with those radishes this year. 

But I also am amazed that a zinnia I cut and put in water over three weeks ago is still fresh and bright whereas store bought flowers wither after just a few days. And I'm biting into arugula that bites back with flavor. And it's kind of a nice break to wake up at 4AM worrying about my beets and carrots instead of S and Y... In a few hours, we will all be awake taking that morning inventory stroll in the garden, marveling at the wonder of it all, watching in amazement and anticipation. This is the stuff that salads and memories are made of and that is why, no matter what, I'll always plant "one or two things" each year!