For the second year in a row, I have a garden. This year's garden is twice the size of last years garden and vegtables are actually growing. I have never gardened in my life. I tend to kill things for lack of interest in their well-being. Plants in my house were typically silk with no attention necessary.
My first attempt at a garden last year was a cluster. Really a cluster. Who knew gardens need rows to really grow properly? We did actually eat what we grew from that garden, and I learned a lot from the experiment.
When I was a VISTA volunteer I lived in a small town with 99% Anglo Mormans. I love the Mormans. They were kind and friendly and unlike a lot of people's experience, not in my face with their religion. Well, maybe they were, because I was living amongst them, however I pretended not to notice.
All good Mormans have a garden. As a VISTA, I felt that I should try to integrate myself into the community so I would go to community meetings and in the fall, there would be garden parties where everyone got together and brought food out of their own gardens. I'll never forget being in the middle of nowhere Utah when 9/11 hit. A few days after the event, I was invited to a garden party. I wanted to talk about what had happened. I had just left DC and family and friends were impacted by this horrific event. In the middle of nowhere Utah however, the sense was "it will never happen here, would you like some cole slaw?"
I lived in a little bit of a house on about a quarter of an acre of red dirt. My landlady invited me to a Morman women's group, where the topic was gardening. I fondly refer to it as "gardening for God". Whether you live in an apartment or on a farm, every good Morman has a garden. It was a lovely meeting and I met some lovely women afterwards. My landlady asked me if I was planning on a garden that year. Well, um, I would like to I replied. (I had 3 packets of seeds: sunflower, green beans and cucumbers). Well I'll just send over my husband and he'll till the soil for you so you can get started . Wow, I replied, that would be fabulous! I didn't tell her I only had three packets of seeds and was clueless as to what gardening actually entailed.
A few days later, I'm back home from work and hear this horrific noise. As I look out my window I see a tractor larger than my house turning the ground up for my "garden". I headed outside to talk to her husband. The tires on that tractor were at least 6 feet tall. I'd never been so close to any piece of machinery that big in my life. When my landlady suggested her husband would till my little quarter acre piece of dirt, I anticipated a hand tiller, not a ginormous tractor!
Wow I told him. Thanks! He climbs down, shakes my hand and asked "So what are you planning on putting in this year? I flashed to my three packets of seeds, and given the sheer amount of land he just turned over, I replied "You know, I really haven't decided yet". A little white lie, to a very nice Morman man. I think God will forgive me. I was incredulous at the amount of turned over red dirt and the size of the machine that did it. Now I had to do something with it.
While I was in Utah, we were in the middle of a major drought. Droughts bring fires and fires cost lives and property. I was not feeling like I had a right to use water indiscriminately for three packets of seeds as a fun little project. I had a friend who lived in town and was the most interesting woman I've ever met. She was Navajo, a Morman, had a teaching degree from Harvard University and had spent her 2 year mission in Switzerland. I went to talk to about what to plant. She gave me some indian corn that her mother had given her and helped me plant the corn and my three packages of seeds (in rows).
So I had had a garden, which I did not water because I wasn't being a "real" gardener and the drought was weighing heavily on my mind; it was originally just a fun idea. Of course nothing came up of any value and I was stuck with a quarter acre of turned red dirt. FYI, water is a major component of any successful garden.
Years later, here in big sky country, a couple of Morman boys appeared at my door. They were spending their mission here in town. I invited them in, with the caveat that I was not going to convert, however I thought they could use something to drink, and possibly dinner. I have a soft spot for Mormans, especially while they are on their mission(s). We had a lovely conversation and at the end of it, before they left, one of them asked if they could sing for me. Sing. Sure I replied. I sat on my sofa and they began to sing to me, in my living room. Just as they were finishing their song, Jeff arrives home to find two strange boys singing to me. The look on his face was priceless.
One of the great gifts of my VISTA experience was learning to accept others and appreciating what they could bring into my life. I have the utmost respect for the Morman community and a soft spot in my heart for gardens because of them. I'm sure my landlady would be very proud of me this year.
Thanks for reading!
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