Checking on my garden has become a part of my morning routine. As I headed out the back door this week to check on the garden, I approached the garden excitedly. “Maybe the zucchini is ready to harvest.” Peeking under the big umbrella of leaves, I checked on the size of the zucchini. They were a bit small. ”Hmm, not yet, I think to myself.” That morning, I took a little longer to look at the garden. The marigold plant my daughter grew from seed had finally started to flower. The green peppers I grew from seeds started in February. It was then that it occurred to me, this garden tells the story of our summer.
I started growing green peppers indoors in February. Seeing the seeds sprout gave me hope that spring would be coming.
The marigolds were brought back from a school field trip in March. They were just tiny little seeds planted in a plastic cup. My daughter was SO excited that she got to bring home seeds she had planted on the field trip. I inherited a green thumb from my mom. I was determined to water the marigolds and grow them into mature plants to transfer outside. I was very pregnant at the time and knew life was about to get crazy when the new baby arrived. Keeping seedlings alive seemed like a tough goal. Here they are today, healthy with orange blooms.
The nasturtiums I planted in April. I was weeks from my due date. I planted the seeds directly into the garden. I was very pregnant and so ready to have the baby. Doing some light gardening took my mind off things.
The dahlias grew from bulbs (tubers) that my mom gave me. I get emotional thinking about the dahlias because my mom gave them to me in the hospital parking lot. I was visiting my dad in the hospital when he had a heart attack. He’s much better now.
The cucumbers and zucchini I picked up in May. I brought my newborn son to Menards with me. It was one of the first trips I took in the haze of the newborn days. Now, they spill over the trellis and wrap around nearby posts for support
The tomato plants were the last addition. Those were on sale at the end of May. They have small green tomatoes that are steadily growing.
I’ve always loved stories. Our garden tells the story of our summer-the anticipation of spring and a new baby, the restlessness I felt in the newborn months, ready to get outside and do the things I love, the lazy summer days at home, my 2 year old and 6 year old helping me water the plants, and now fall, the harvest season when we get to enjoy the results of our hard work. The deepest memory seared into my mind was planting the dahlias, the ones my mom gave me when my dad was in the hospital. I put them into the ground, thinking about my dad, hoping and praying he’d recover from his heart attack. Now every time I see a dahlia bloom I’m grateful my dad survived his heart attack and he gets more time with his grandkids. What’s the story of your summer?
