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Adventures in Gardening -- Gardens return us to our roots
When I first considered writing this column several weeks ago, I wanted to talk about roots. It seems to me that so much of gardening is about roots. Not only the literal plant roots that we all want to see strengthened and growing, but also family and community roots, which are often just as important to a productive yield.
With Fauquier’s agricultural history, I thought, surely, there must be farming families everywhere. I heard from a few of those folks after the first installment of this column came out a few weeks ago.
Raleigh Dickinson’s sister, Betsy Surles, emailed me to tell me about his adventures in gardening. Raleigh, who retired from the Fauquier Times-Democrat mail room not long after I started working here, and Betsy grew up on a dairy farm in Fredericksburg. Presenting a beautiful jar of canned tomatoes, they explained that their mother canned 365 quarts a year so they’d have one a day. “She’d put one in the refrigerator every morning,” Betsy recalled.
Despite having moved around a bit in his 72 years, Raleigh has always found a way to have some sort of garden. Raleigh came to live with Betsy and her husband, Jesse, in 1986 and the trio recently moved to Norfolk Drive in Warrenton, where the landlord “graciously told him he could have a little garden,” Betsy said.
They carved out a space beneath the clothesline on the edge of the backyard and even this early in the season, Raleigh has gotten his garden growing. Green sprigs of beets, peas, beans, and onions have broken through the ground next to cabbage and kale that came back of its own accord.
The brother and sister team figure they’ve had a garden of some variety since the 1940s when Betsy, at age 10, planted a Victory Garden. Seven years younger, Raleigh helper her grow kale that was taken each week to the local market.
Asked what they love about gardening, the answer is straightforward: “the food,” Raleigh said, noting that they put up 600 quarts of vegetables last year. Plus, they froze some of their produce, Betsy added.
Raleigh and Betsy are eager to get their tomatoes in the ground. They’re aiming to have them planted by April 15 so they’ll have some ready by the Fourth of July, Betsy said, pointing out that they’ll cover them with milk jugs to protect them on cool nights.
Whether you grew up on a farm or not, I’d venture to guess that many of this paper’s readers have farming in their blood. In my case, my grandfather was an avid gardener, putting out a huge garden every year.
Working up there shirtless and in a straw hat on hot days was one of the great joys of his life. Eating the tomatoes he grew was another. He grew up in Front Royal at a time when everyone had a garden, or they got awfully hungry.
He’d tell us stories about having to leave school early to help with the garden or to help his own father with his business. My favorite of his stories was about the town’s cow jail. If a cow got out of its field, it was caught and taken to the cow jail. Its owner had to pay for its release. Can you imagine?
Along with those stories, my grandfather passed along what little I do know about gardening. Like the Dickinson’s, my grandparents would can all summer long. As a kid, I thought it must be horrible ? stuck in that hot kitchen all day. Last summer, my grandmother walked me through the process. As with the garden, I wished I’d paid more attention when I was growing up.
The roots are there, though, and maybe they just need a little encouragement.
With that in mind, here’s a quick update of progress on my dream garden.
It’s been a busy couple of weeks. When we launched this column a couple of weeks ago, I told you about my grand ambitions for a beautiful, bountiful garden. I hope you won’t be too disappointed to learn that it’s a work in progress ? with work being the operative word.
I’m blessed to have a father who can build, literally, anything. So, the work hasn’t fallen much to me yet. He quickly assembled boxes for my raised beds and created steps into the garden from a nearby porch ? a porch that has seen more use since the steps went in a week ago than it did in the five years we’ve been here. It’s funny how being able to get down into the yard from there has really made it a much more appealing place.
The beds await the arrival of soil, which I haven’t yet found. And, eventually, we’ll see how my ‘leggy’ seedlings take to the out of doors. I transplanted the ones I told you about a few weeks ago, with mixed success. The pumpkins and peanuts seem to be thriving, but the rest of the crop (can I call it that if it is small enough to fit on a table top?) is struggling.
My garden advisor, Rob Burnett, has encouraged me to get a grow light system set up. I’m sure he’s right and it’ll make a world of difference. Despite the fact that he’s given me specific instructions, I’m still a little intimidated by the idea. Maybe I’ll just buy some seedlings, though I do have several new seeds for varieties of veggies I’d like to grow myself. Decisions, decisions.
I was much more decisive when it came to the construction of my worm bin composter. A nice lady at the Bull Run Mountains Conservancy workshop even recognized me from this column. As we torn huge piles of newspapers to make the bedding for the composter, we chatted about our ambitions. Some among us were long-time composters with extensive experience while others, including a few kids, were eager to learn about the process that will not only put our food waste to good use, but will net us rich compost.
Workshop leader Michele Thieme did a great job of explaining what we were in for, even including a short biology lesson on our workaholic red wiggler worms. I’m happy to report that my worm population seems to be thriving ? they devoured the food I put in last weekend and only a few have escaped.
Who knew returning to your roots could be so much fun?
Laura Ruby is managing editor of Fauquier Times-Democrat Weekend.
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