An Education In Planting

We are all tending to our yards and young gardens these days. Farmers are hard at work planting seeds that will feed the world. Saturday afternoons are filled with the symphony of lawnmowers throughout the neighborhoods trying to keep up with robust grass growth. New home owners, like my son, are learning about the personalities of their yards; where the sun can encourage, where the shade can protect, or where water likes to linger.

I was recently privy to a conversation between my husband and our son about gardening. Ben and his young family are enjoying their first Spring in their new home. That means, for the first time our son is going to plant. Let me tell you, this is a big deal. Most people (like me) go to the garden store, buy some begonias, take a shovel and plop the flowers into well-spaced dirt cavities. Then, you redistribute the dirt, water abundantly, and voila! A flower garden is born. Contrast my regime of gardening with my husband’s annual planting routine which involves a 12-step-soil-preparation program.

My husband and our oldest son are definitely of same cloth in a number of ways. Not only do they look alike, but over the past 35 years, I’ve witnessed their similar mannerisms.  They rub salt off their fingers the same way while eating potato chips. Their eyes turn upwards in the same gaze when contemplating deep thought, and both are transformed by Shushi; hijacked by chop sticks, small pieces of raw fish, and soy sauce swirled with wasabi. Those dining with them know better than to try to engage in conversation while in midst of gastronomic deliciousness.  They personify proof that character traits are biologically connected.

I knew the conversation would be a “moment” between father and son. What flowers can grow here? What bushes can grow there? Tending to a yard in the Spring is a big deal in my husband’s world. Several years ago, his advice was about rose bushes with our younger son, and before that it was about peonies with our oldest daughter. It’s become a rite of passage when our adult children take ownership of the dirt outside their new homes with a long chat with their dad.

Having heard the gist of their gardening conversation, I knew Ben was taking to heart his dad’s well-nourished advice. “Lilac bushes might be good along the fence,” and “New Guinea impatiens might be great there.” As I listened, I knew soon enough the trunk of my son’s car would be filled to the brim with soil additives, manure compost, organic peat moss, and other bags of stuff recommended by his dad. Let’s just say, during the middle two weeks of May, my husband’s car smells like a farm. Multiple trips to the garden store become his mission. I wish I could say that soil preparation is a bonding experience between my husband and me; but alas, I’ve learned over the past 40 years my gifts of gardening are best appreciated by throwing mulch and watering when it’s all said and done. We are both ok with the fact that no one can make a more welcome space in the dirt for a daylily than my husband.

All you have to do is drive around to see the amount of time and tending care people give to their flower gardens. No wonder Spring ranks as one of the more plush seasons of the year. My world is a bit more beautiful knowing there is another very intentional gardener out there. I should definitely let my son know if he needs help with the mulch, I’m the one to call.