hrj

I did one of my "give me a blogging topic" calls on facebook yesterday and got a suggestion that I talk about gardening and the change of the seasons. Well, it was "inspiration" not "instructions", so I'm riffing sideways from that.

My father grew up on a farm and as a consequence he's always tended to take gardening rather seriously. But ever since I was a kid, I've been much more of a "let's make grandiose plans and then just throw things at the dirt and see what sticks" sort of gardener. I know it looks like I'm all organized and energetic and virtuous about growing things, but really I'm not. As in so many of my hobbies (and gardening is definitely a hobby), my principle is "If a thing is worth doing, then it's worth doing half-assed if that's the only way you're going to do it at all."

Now if I were seriously depending on my garden to supply a full balanced diet, or if I needed it to be a net economic plus in my household economy, I might take a different approach. But I'm not and I don't. So I'm free to take the approach that works for me. What are a few components of that? Laziness, inspiration, self-gratification, and forgiveness are a good start.

Laziness doesn't mean avoiding work. I'm perfectly happy to put in long weekend hours digging and building and laying out irrigation systems and whatnot. But I'm less likely to keep up a tedious, grinding routine of day-to-day maintenance. Hence the irrigation timers, the anti-weed systems, the raised beds, and so forth. I'm less likely to grow something that needs persistent persnickity care.

Inspiration and self-gratification are closely tied together. I don't necessarily pick my crops based on the most efficient things to grow, or the best nutrition, or even the ones best suited to my climate. I grow the things I'm excited about. The ones I get a charge out of being able to provide for myself. I grow the things that contribute to my sensory environment. The ones that have that "just because I can" factor. I grow tomatoes because no store-bought tomatoes can ever compete with ones from your own garden. I grow berries because I'm delighted by the experience of wandering through my yard eating berries right off the bush. I grow all manner of fresh herbs because I delight in crops that will supply my entire need for that particular item. I planted two medlar trees because they're just bleeping weird and I get to explain them to people all the time who've never even heard of the fruit. I grow plums because plums are my totem fruit--I've had a close emotional relationship with plums since I was a little girl. Wherever I go, I must have plums and roses. If growing and eating a thing doesn't make me supremely happy, what does it matter how well it grows or how nutritious it is? Nutrition can be had much more cheaply.

And forgiveness. Forgiveness is important. Forgiveness means that if my life goes utterly crazy during the month when the apples come ripe, it's ok if they all go to squirrels and raccoons. Forgiveness means that if I decided that I've gotten tired of Swiss chard and can't imagine eating any more this season, it's ok to let it go to seed. Forgiveness means that if I discover I planted something with the wrong sun/shade balance, I'll just experiment differently next year. Forgiveness means that no one growing season is the end of the world as long as I can regroup and keep the perennials limping along.

I know that I seem to brag about my garden a lot, but it isn't really to boast about my skills and triumphs, it's more to marvel that I have any success at all.