On Being Terrible at Gardening

Some years ago I read a book on self improvement (big mistake!) and decided I needed to make some changes to cultivate myself into a sophisticated, learned gentleperson steeped in history, culture and the finer things. Obviously it didn’t hold, and I found myself years later still the goofy bufoon you all know (and love?).

Part of my cultivation into smooth civility was becoming an accomplished horticulturist. I saw myself in a pair of muck boots and Duluth dungarees with a worn straw sun hat and a pair of leatherette gloves tilling the soil and mucking the muck, with the grand goal a plentiful garden spilling over with an eyeful burst of natural hues. Bees, butterflies, and birds would cheerily flutter through the garden. Perhaps a sparrow would land and nod at me with a thankful gesture.

I became obsessed with all things permaculture and eventually found myself at the Steiner Storehouse picking up books about Biodynamic gardening and agriculture. I will admit here and now that I got deep into the lore and at the pinnacle of my study found myself sleeping in my garden at night in a fruitless hope of catching a glimpse of a gnome or other garden sprite.

Through all this effort I remained a terrible gardener. The main feature of my gardens were dried up garden beds and dead plants. I did an amazing job of growing all sorts of weeds, though.

I sought help.

I brought in specialists: landscapers, professional gardeners, and enthusiastic hobbyists. The garden did great under their direction, but as soon as I was let loose, death and destruction lay in my path. There was a simple reason for all of this: I didn’t do anything to make it good.

I didn’t water enough. I didn’t weed enough. I didn’t do enough. Turns out if you don’t do stuff in your garden, everything dies except weeds, which somehow absolutely thrive when you ignore them. There were reasons for this, but overall the biggest reason was bad time management. I never gave myself the time to do the work, or found myself totally burnt out from the kitchen and not wanting to step out into the hot sun and pull some weeds.

The lessons have not necessarily been learned. Just last week, two cooks from the kitchen came over to help me catch up with the garden. It took two healthy young lads about seven hours to clean up all the beds. Afterward we took the most important step ever in my garden: we installed some irrigation. At least one aspect of my failure is covered. With a timer and four outlets connected to hoses and directional sprinklers, at long last my plants can unanimously sign in relief for enough to drink in the scorching heat.

So here’s the main effort: schedule some time daily to pull some weeds, check on plants, and be the steward my little plant babies deserve. Luckily many of the heartiest plants have continued to survive and even thrive and the restaurant has had a steady stream of rosemary, lemon balm, nasturtium, marigold, borage and thyme available, among other things. But now with the miracle of automated irrigation and my new commitment to making time for the garden, we’re expanding operations into more herbs and flowers.

Here’s the current garden list: Thornless blackberries, Apples of all sorts, Winecap mushrooms, Agastache, Hyssop, Blue Hyssop, Anise Hyssop, Walnut, Figs, Apricots, Rosemary, Greek Basil, Lemon Basil, Meadow Rue, Thyme, Oregano, Vietnamese Coriander, Chervil, Sweet Alyssum, Strawberries, Raspberries, Lovage, Nasturtium, Blueberries, Rhubarb, Sansho, Bay Laurel, Lavender and some tomatoes. There’s probably a few things I’m forgetting, but these are the lifeforms I’m primarily concerned about keeping alive.

By the way, if anyone needs some green walnuts, our tree probably is holding several hundred pounds at this point, so please feel free to come over and pick all of them. I have an orchard ladder and a legal waiver waiting for you.

I don’t subscribe to biodynamic beliefs anymore (unfortunately…I really really wanted to believe) and I don’t bother calling in specialists anymore, knowing full well I’ll just squander their efforts. So I’m going to just drudge through the muck with my cheap slip-ons and no-name pants…but I did get the worn straw sun hat.