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An experienced plantsman once told me the best time
to prune: “Whenever the shears are sharp.” My approach to
gardening has followed a similar bent. I do what I can when I can, with
what I have. That’s why I was out planting daffodil bulbs on the day
before New Year’s Eve. I pulled up some turnips then, too. Some say
they taste better after a frost, though they still taste like turnips. A
friend had given me a start from her blackberry vine, so I got that in the
ground. Whenever the weather warms up a little and I have time and energy,
the garden is waiting, winter or not. I survey the ruins of the past season’s effort.
Dead tomato vines still hang on their cages, which I had carefully labeled
by variety when I planted them with a good deal of hope. My tomatoes
didn’t turn out worth a hoot this year, probably because I
didn’t get them planted till June. Like every year, this year’s
garden had a dozen failures, and I often feel fortunate that people
don’t get arrested for plant abuse. At first I was excited to see a
picture in a gardening magazine that looked just like the bed of ornamental
castor beans I grew out back. Then I realized the photo was there as a bad
example. “The simplicity of the traditional planting in the above
photo demonstrates how visually flat this arrangement can be.” Well!
But there were enough successes to balance out. My
okra did fine, and I have good luck with bush beans as long as I fence the
rabbits out. I did get my potatoes planted in March when I was supposed to,
and had my first successful crop. I’ve been adding every year to my
perennial bed, so I now have a nice collection of daisies, coneflowers,
phlox, coreopsis, etc. This fall a friend divided and rearranged the plants
by size and color, so I’m looking forward to seeing how that comes
out. The seed and plant catalogs have started arriving, so
I’m making plans. The White Flower Farm book, my favorite, carried an
essay on “Designing Your Garden.” “The most important
point to make is this,” it said: “The best garden will be
produced by finding plants you like that are well suited to your climate
and soil, and making a brave start. You learn nothing while waiting or
paying someone else to garden for you.”
Pretty pictures in the catalogs get my juices
flowing, and it’s easier to feel brave when the work is four months
away. I might try starting tomatoes indoors from seed. “Improved
Gurney Girl II” looks good. Maybe this will be the year I plant sweet
corn. Pole beans would be fun, and save my aching back. I think I’ll
start a new vegetable bed where I have more sun, or cut down those
hackberries that stand in the way of successful broccoli. Life is too short
to plant vegetables in the shade. On that subject, it takes fruit trees
several years to produce a crop, so I’d better get them started.
I’m not getting any younger. I need to get started while I’m energized,
because spring gets overwhelming with all there is to do. If I don’t
have the right seeds and the right equipment ready at planting time, I can
easily get distracted or discouraged. It’s not like me to make a plan
and write it down, but I need to learn to do just that. If I order seeds
now I won’t have much choice but to plant them after they arrive.
Winter is for getting the tiller running right, sharpening the blade on the
mower, and buying a chainsaw. The more I do now, the better chance there is
for a good garden year. As gardeners know, the same applies to other aspects
of life. What we do in the off-season determines the season. Dreaming by
the fire sets hearts on fire. Planning makes more things possible. Life is
too short to settle for mediocrity. A new year is another chance. We learn
nothing while waiting. It’s time to sharpen our tools. And make a
brave start.
Contact Fletcher Farrar at ffarrar@illinoistimes.com
This article appears in Dec 27, 2007 – Jan 2, 2008.
