My great-grandmother was my caregiver when I was a baby. When company would come, she would greet them with robust ‘howdy!’ and a big hug. She had a special way of making you feel welcome in her home. So, not surprising, my first word was not ‘mama’ or ‘daddy’ but ‘howdy’. Although people don’t use that phrase anymore, I would like to use it to welcome you to the blondegardener blog.
My roots of gardening date back to childhood as I was raised in many gardens. My great-grandmother’s entire backyard was a vegetable garden. No swing sets or toys-just vegetables. I was taught at an early age that shovels and hoes were just like toys and using them in the garden was fun.
My grandmother had a smaller vegetable/herb garden and despite the fact that she worked full-time and raised 2 boys by herself, it was always immaculate. Rows were straight and perfect width for a tiller. Everything she planted grew by leaps and bounds. My sisters, cousins and I always got to help her plant in the spring and enjoy the rewards in the summer.
My aunt and uncle’s vegetable garden seem to go on for miles. Come spring, my uncle was always anxious to till the designated acre (or ten) and it seemed to get bigger every year. Funny, now that I think about it, I never remember seeing him come picking time.
Then there was my mom and dad’s garden by the creek. That particular garden housed approximately 1000 tomato plants. No that is not a typo. 1000. Tomato plants. Planted, staked, tied, pruned, picked, watered and fertilized. That is how I spent my summers.
I feel as if I have paid my dues to gardening and should be an expert by now. That is far from the truth. I learn something new every year and every year I plot and plan how next year will be bigger and better.
That’s just what gardener’s do.