Grouchy gardener's labor of love

By Sarah Minick

05/18/2010

I usually get grumpy this time of year when the neighbors ask me how our garden is growing. In fact, I get so grumpy that my husband has jokingly nicknamed me The Grouchy Gardener. Our vegetable garden has passed those pristine days of happily hoed, freshly planted rows of seeds. You know those days before the first weed sprouts in the newly-tilled, crumbly dirt. Those first days in the garden filled with lilac scents and bluebird trills. Alas, all that has gone, and we face the discouraging weeks that make me so grumpy.

Our seeds have had plenty of time to sprout and now I know that either we planted the watermelon seeds too deeply, or they rotted due to too much or too little rain. And it is not only the melons; the corn and Irish potatoes only came up in spots.

My husband, who seems to have all of the gardening patience in our family, optimistically says, "We need to replant the garden tomorrow." Whoa there! I've already sweated, bent over, and crawled on my knees in the hot sun planting row upon row in the garden once already this year. Now he's asking me to do it again?

Last year the crows ate our corn seeds as they sprouted, and I can't tell you how many times we replanted that corn. Then we had the problem of poor pollination because of the different planting dates. Was Jim discouraged enough to ban corn from the garden this year? Nope. He just decided to plant even more. And did I mention the bears that had an afternoon feast in our corn patch?

We have other critter problems too, including coons, crows, rabbits, and even our own dogs. Last year the rabbits cleaned off every bean pod that we managed to grow, leaving the bare stems sticking up to remind us how many plants we lost. We replanted those too, but it didn't help, giving us a grand harvest for the whole season of five beans. So as I replant yet again, I know those bunnies wait in the bushes keeping a close watch.

And like they do every year, those rabbits will definitely outsmart our three sleepy dogs that love to lay in the soft soil and squish our emerging plants. There they happily snore and dream of bouncing bunnies, rather than prowl the garden in search of white tails. When the dogs finally wake, they stretch and leave their garden bed. The bruised plants never recover.

Despite my garden grumpiness, I stubbornly continue to try to raise my own food as I've done for more than twenty years. And I'm not alone in this green enterprise. The number of gardeners continues to grow. In 2009, 38 percent of Americans had a vegetable garden, according to the Garden Writers Association, and that number has increased every year since 2007.

All gardeners face trials such as mine with each seed we plant, each critter we combat. As always some garden seasons fare better than others. This one with its late frost and long drought is not looking the most promising, yet I'm out there every morning.

So why do I keep it up year after year? For health, of course, and the satisfaction of good eats. I love to pick tomatoes, lettuce and broccoli knowing they'll cover my salad plate within an hour. Talk about fresh!

And talk about food security. Each year in August, Jim and I have a grand celebration where we eat only our own food, our own vibrant-colored veggies and fruits from our own labor and our own yard. We smile proudly before the first taste and name aloud each fresh vegetable: corn, tomatoes, beans, new potatoes, peppers, squash, and of course, watermelon for dessert.

I know where this food came from, how far it traveled to get to my plate, what pesticides and sprays did not go onto it, what organic fertilizers did, how much crisper and sweeter it tastes than store-bought and how many more nutrients it contains. I remember how hard each plant was lovingly labored over.

And I know that no matter what disasters befall our garden to make me a grouchy gardener, I will be right out there again next year planting and sweating and also eating well.