An Affair of the Heart- Part 2
If you missed Part 1, read here.
Part 2
Grace Notes and Battlefields
For all our idyllic days, we had our share of tempestuous ones. It did not take long for us to realize that Mr. H and I were gardeners with individual and differing perspectives. I looked at the land and gardens and saw grace notes, a delicate balance to be cultivated with harmony and care. Mr. H looked at the land in the spirit of originality. Strategizing the way a General looks at a future battleground to be conquered. The element of surprise is essential for him. It is no surprise that we struggled in our first year gardening together. It was a case of His vs. Hers, a challenge to see who was in charge. I had six 4’ x 10’ raised garden beds built alongside our old red carriage house to grow vegetables, annual and perennial flowers. I lovingly and thoughtfully tended to the plants over the years. When the construction of our new carriage house started in 2018 I lost two raised beds. Consolidating plants into the remaining four beds was challenging. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
Newly retired, in May 2020, Mr. H said, “I want to grow beans, peas, and tomatoes. I need two garden beds; where do you want me to plant them?” I had a feeling this might happen and cautiously replied, “We have a great farmers market down the road; people suggest we buy our veggies at the market; they taste much better.”
I could see right away, by the furrow in his brows, my strategy was not going to work. A battle was afoot. “Well, how about this? I said. “I will give you one bed for your peas and beans, but I do not have room for the tomatoes. Can you find another spot?”
To my surprise, he found a place in a small paddock filled with hemlock, white birch trees, and a fern meadow nearly covering the paddock. It would not have been my first choice to grow tomatoes, but I declined to comment.
Mr. H dug a 4’x 4’ square patch of dirt, lined it with fallen tree branches, and planted tomato, lettuce, and bean seeds. At this point, I could no longer keep my point of view to myself. Looking over his scruffy patch of dirt, I said, “Well, that’s interesting; what is it? He proudly said, “ It is a pioneer plot; I am creating a garden as the early settlers would have when they arrived on the property in 1790.”
I had to ask, “Will you add soil and fertilizer?”
He replied, “ No, I am going natural.”
To add a bit of tension to the conversation, I said, “We do not have a garden hose close by; how will you water the garden?”
Clearly, I wanted him to see the folly of his ways. He was prepared for that question, picked up a watering can, and said, “ With this.”
By my calculations, he would need to make at least four or five trips, about 20 yards away, to the main tap at the house to water all his plants.
I looked at all the sticks of varying sizes with little seed packets tied to their base and felt a little guilty. I needed to be more open-minded. I knew the plants would struggle for sun, nutrients, and water and I did not want to see his enthusiasm wane. I had to find a way through this, or it would be a tense growing season for both of us.
I said, “Maybe there is another way to approach this. Let’s consider other locations that might work better for you.”
Love brings with it great focus. We found a spot on the southern side of the property where a tennis court once existed. By June, Mr. H had eight 4’ x 9’ raised garden beds, one 2’ x 15’ raised pea bed, a 12’ tilled half moon-shaped pumpkin patch, along with a 4’ x 16’ x 10’ hugelkulter, a German word for a mounded no-dig raised bed filled with rotting wood and plant material to call his own. Once completed, he pulled up sticks, returned his pioneer plot to the ferns, and relocated his poorly tomato, lettuce, and bean plants to his new garden headquarters. A place where I imagined he could keep a small village fully supplied with summer herbs and vegetables. The peas he planted in my garden bed never took and were soon enveloped by the leggy brilliance of my white and pink bee-loving plant, cleome. I wanted Mr. H to love life at Tahilla Farm as much as I did and encouraged all endeavors. It did not take long for him to develop an appreciation for the woods and all it offered us in the form of free firewood. He was determined to become a self-made woodsman. With my garden cart and a puppy jumping at his heels, he set off into the woods to see what treasures he could bring home. It wasn’t long before a mound of wood in all shapes and sizes was parked outside our garage with a puppy on top, guarding his sire’s bounty.
Looking like a hero home from battle he said, “All I need is a chainsaw.”
My breath seized in my chest when he said it. I remember our GP telling me about gruesome chainsaw accidents, common for people not adequately trained to use them. She made a point of saying they were mostly older men….newly retired.
I said, “I will only agree to the chainsaw if you promise to use all the safety gear and have Swift (our friend and forester) show you how to use it properly.”
He agreed. Within a month of his woodsman mastery, he planned another surprise. One day a receipt for 1000 spring bulbs appeared in my email inbox. When I mentioned it, he was baffled.
“I meant to surprise you; I plan to plant them in the fall when you are not around. Come spring, you will have 1000 blooming surprises.” I was speechless. Love was in the air.
The following spring, yellow and white daffodils lit up the landscape, dancing in the wind around us. One day, as we admired his magnificent achievement, he turned to me and said,
“Don’t worry, I ordered another 3000 bulbs yesterday. So this time next year, we will have 4000 spring bulbs to admire.”
This spring the first of his flowery surprises in shades of purple, white and yellow crocuses, popped up following sweet displays of white snowdrops. Daffodils and tulips followed. He mentioned he has another 1000 bulbs on order. I just smiled. Spring will always be an anniversary of the heart at Tahilla Farm. A marriage intertwined with the natural world, two round pegs in perfectly shaped round holes, just like the ones created to plant bulbs. As it should be on a beautiful ordinary day.
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