Garden Saga Part I
When we moved into Winfield Village two years ago, Adam and I were excited to learn that large garden plots were available for rental. Envisioning rows of lacy lettuce; sweet, fat sugar-snap peas dangling from the vine; and dozens of plump, sun-ripened tomatoes, we signed up for a plot.
Now I grew up in Provo, Utah, and every spring my mother planted a small vegetable garden. I distinctly remember the "garden day" each spring when she would call all eight of us outside to help plant the seeds. We poked holes, dropped seeds in, covered them up, watered, and waited. As long as we remembered to water the seeds, they grew. And the only critters we had to compete with were quail and our pet rabbits (who loved the lettuce and spinach). So from my past experience, I thought that to grow a successful garden you merely had to follow the back of the seed packet, water, and await your plentiful harvest. But apparently gardens in Illinois don't work that way.
First we had a late frost. It can be tricky to gauge how soon to plant your cold-weather crops, regardless of your particular climate, but that doesn't make that late frost any less deadly. That killed some of our tender sprouts.
Then we had the rain. Last spring I finally learned why you never hear "we thank thee for the moisture we have received" over LDS pulpits in Illinois. Two weeks of pelting precipitation hammered what few sprouts we had started in April and flooded out our seed beds. At least those few plants that survived didn't go thirsty.
After the rain, we had a month or two of reprieve. About 50% of the seeds we had originally planted had survived and grew into young plants. Adam checked out some gardening books from the library, and we began to read up on how to increase our odds at growing a successful garden. Adam grew to like the Square Foot Gardening method, and we began to gradually implement its techniques into the half of our garden that was surviving, including starting a number of seeds indoors for our fall crop.
Mid-summer brought heat--and lots of it. Our pea plants had been sparse to start with, and soon the sun had baked them into a crispy yellow-brown with hints of green. I often ventured out to the garden with 10-month-old Jared in the baby carrier to water.
In July we started to notice that our zucchini plant was looking somewhat wilty, and our otherwise healthy tomato leaves had developed some brown spots. The melon plants, which had given us a small but sweet watermelon and cantaloupe were looking sorry too. Within a few days, the vine boars had demolished the zucchini plant. Adam tried spraying the plants with garlic-vinegar water, but to no avail. Our vine plants were beat.
The condition of the tomato plants worsened. The brown spots multiplied, and the leaves started to wilt. The fruit seemed unaffected at first, and we harvested a good dozen tomatoes. Soon, however, every plant had wilted under the curse of the blight, and the fruits developed spots. Because of our humid climate, tomato plants can easily aquire a fungal growth on their leaves if watered from overhead (or even if watered from the base, as we were trying to do). The few tomatoes we did harvest were delicious, though.
The broccoli was nibbled by bugs, the lettuce turned bitter with the heat, the cucumbers were bitter, and the spinach and carrots and peppers never sprouted. Our most successful plant was probably the sprig of tarragon that a neighboring gardener gave to us, which we haphazardly planted in a lone corner of the garden and forgot about until it was the only healthy plant standing. (We did have a more successful fall crop, though--the carrots, lettuce, and cabbage did well, and we gathered compost to use in the spring.)
Though our harvest was scarce, we learned a lot from that first summer of gardening. As Adam says, we discovered that we have to "learn the laws of the garden" and abide by them. Reading the seed packets and watering once a day simply isn't going to cut it.
Garden Saga Part II
Having learned the hard way the what-to-dos and what-not-to-dos, Adam was excited to start afresh with our garden this spring. In February I double-checked with the Winfield office to make sure they still had us down for our plot, and we began to plan. We mapped out our garden layout, and Adam marked the plots in the frozen earth. Adam directed the indoor seed-planting and bought a flourescent plant light to put the plants under after they had sprouted in our vermiculite. He found some plywood and made a large box for us to put the compost we had collected all last summer, as well as the mulch we were storing for use this summer. We had also found a metal archway at the dumpster last summer which Adam planned to use for growing melons vertically. Adam tended the indoor sprouts with care for several weeks and planted some of the cold weather crops in the garden. We prayed for a mild spring.
Then one evening in mid-March, Adam came home from work and told me he was going to run out to check on the garden, as he often does in the evenings. He walked down the row to our plot, then stopped. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Our garden was--GONE. There was nothing but dirt. He looked to the plot on the right and then the left to make sure he was in the right spot. Yes, this was our plot. Our fence and fence posts were gone. All of the sprouts were gone. All of the plant covers were gone. The archway was gone. The compost boxes Adam had built were gone. Our shovels and hoe and other supplies were gone. There was nothing left but tilled earth.
Adam found most of our garden tools and supplies in the trash bin, and many of them (such as the chicken wire fencing) were mangled beyond repair. The next morning, we went to the Winfield office to get things straightened out. Apparently there had been a miscommunication. Thinking we didn't want our plot anymore (even though there were plants growing!), they trashed the tools and garden supplies and tilled it. We proposed a compromise--that they compensate us monetarily for the supplies that Adam wasn't able to retrieve from the trash bin. They agreed.
I have to hand it to Adam. Despite the setbacks of last summer's garden, and despite our garden compost, tools, and layout being destroyed with the annihilation of our garden this year, he isn't about to give up. He has re-purchased our supplies and, thanks to a generous "garden stimulus package" from the in-laws, has laid down new topsoil and mulch.
Here is what our garden looks like now:
Adam is already teaching Jared to love gardening:
Here are the beds before Adam added the topsoil:
And after ...
Now for the planting. Wish us luck!
