A recent visit to my grandparent’s house about an hour away has me dreaming of growing my own heavy ripe tomatoes, cucumbers on the vine, and carrots that need thinning. Now that the yard is, I can start dreaming of my garden. The plan is to dig it out this fall so that it’s ready for planting next spring, but after the immense job of putting in the chain link, I’m a bit wary of mentioning to Hubby that I would like to install a fence around my garden. My poor husband has been patient with my country requests, from the large fence to the rain barrels, and even the new deck that will need to go in next year. I might fold and allow him to get central air if we can afford it next year since he’s been so accommodating.
A fence around my garden will first look lovely. I picture a wood frame fence with goat wiring to keep the dogs out, and a little wooden gate too. I wonder how much it would cost to put in a well with a hand pump back there (okay, this is probably not financially feasible for another 20 years, but I can still dream)? In the next few years we hope to have a garden shed, something large enough for a small potting area on one side and some storage on the other for Frankenstein, our push mower and maybe a good seasonal place for our snow blower.
I envision rows of onions, garlic, tomatoes, beans on vines and cucumber vines you need to dance around on tip toe to get by. I can’t wait for the garden salads and the quiet evenings weeding in my sanctuary of herbs and tall green stalks of corn. (I of course assume Hubby will be watching Junior for me as I escape). As mentioned in an earlier post, I grew up with a garden that my mom slaved over and even though the hard work, the seeds and small plants probably cost more than getting veggies on sale at the local superstore, the effort that one puts into a garden is beneficial to self being and worth alone.
As I wandered around their lot, getting a tour of their gardens, and a history on their trees (also something I’ve become obsessed with since our back yard only has 1mature tree), my grandfather explained his overgrown potato patch and pointed out rusting metal piles that most likely held plenty of treasures. At one of these piles, he waded in with his boots, and plucked out a tire rim that will help to elevate my rain barrels, and as he did so, I spotted some raspberries wildly growing among some sumac trees.
With their permission, I’m planning on returning this fall to snag some trees to plant in my own yard which is much more rewarding as I like to think that it’s almost a passing of the torch. Someday it might be me touring my yard with a grandchild, pointing out the rusting hand water pump, or the fence pole that attacked Hubby’s head. And the trees that will shade us will already have a glorious history.
My grandmother sent me home with a bag filled with red skinned potatoes, onions and beans which Hubby and I enjoyed with some homemade wine and steaks last night, a taste of what could come if we had our own country garden.