On warm, sunny days – as springtime stretches into summer – the garden is where I long to be.
Clad in my bib overalls. Hands in the soil. Taking in the earthy aromas and vibrant greenery that surrounds me.
Today my garden is of the container variety. The interior and exterior of my townhome are filled with a colorful array of potted plants, vegetables and herbs.
It’s a pastime that brings me back to my childhood on the farm. The garden was our playground. A labyrinth where my brother and I spent countless hours playing hide and seek, digging mudholes, and sampling raw chives, cherry tomatoes, and even sour rhubarb stalks.
In the summertime, we could always find Mom there – planting, tending, weeding and watering. And just as Dad taught us lessons in the field, she helped nurture our love of the land by helping us plant our own mini gardens.
Each year, we’d accompany her to Madsen’s Greenhouse where we would explore the aisles of curious plant life, learn their preferences for sun, soil and water, and pick out our favorite finds.
Amongst the larger family garden, our plots were easily recognizable by the white picket fencing that lined their borders and the unruly weeds that inevitably took over each growing season. It was probably more work for Mom to let us attempt tending to our own roots, but she encouraged us anyway.
I come from a long line of gardeners. The proverbial green thumb has been passed down through my family for generations.
The garden I grew up in was previously tended to by my Grandma Dorothy. And on my maternal side, not a summer goes by that I don’t look forward to pickled beets, zucchini cookies or a jar of strawberry-rhubarb jam put up by my Grandma Ruth.
Someday maybe I’ll master the art of canning, but for now I continue to rely on the abundant crop that emerges from the Banwart patch year after year. Meanwhile, through trial and error, I learn new lessons caring for my own collection of annuals, perennials and tropical house plants.
The garden grounds me. It’s where I go to escape a bad day, find the ingredients to mix a fancy cocktail or just enjoy some quiet time alone.
I’m thankful for the memories grown there, the lifelong hobby it sprouted and for the many ways it still nourishes me – inside and out.