Playing in the dirt is part of gardening fun (04/24/06)

I am stiff and sore this morning. Last night I had the overwhelming urge to dig up one of the garden beds and plant some onions. I was foolish enough to tell my husband that the 150 or so onions we ordered weren’t too many. I think they sent us at least twice that number. Now I can barely move even though I managed to get only about 75 of them tucked into the ground before my legs started cramping. At least now I have a project for tonight … and maybe tomorrow night … and the night after that …

It will be several weeks before we can begin pulling the resulting green onions. There are still a few left in the garden from last year. They are perking up nicely even though I haven’t gone anywhere near that particular bed yet.

We always had a handful of the slender green and white beauties in a glass of cold water sitting on the kitchen table. We ate them like candy. One year my husband brought home a huge grocery bag full of green onions. As much as I like them, I got really tired of them after awhile. Even so, there is nothing quite like an onion sandwich on squishy white bread. It’s guaranteed to kill a summer cold in a heartbeat.

I consider it too early to put out a full garden as there is still a danger of a late frost. I usually wait until Mother’s Day before I begin my annual frenzy of planting along with mindless and never-ending weeding. It’s just that the warm spring breezes and sunny days we have had lately proved to be too tempting. I am itching to set out cold-weather plants like cauliflower and broccoli in hopes that they can withstand a bit of whatever Mother Nature has in store.

I am also itching because of the first touch of poison ivy. You would think I would know better. I did buy some yellow laundry soap and washed with that when I was finished with my outside chores. That’s what my mother always made me do when I was little and I never got poison ivy way back then. So far the blisters are confined to a small place on one finger. If I’m really lucky it won’t get any worse.

I think it came from the roses I was weeding the night before. They didn’t appreciate having all their little friends removed and stabbed me a couple of times. When I persisted in yanking out weeds, one rose thorn grabbed my arm and didn’t want to let go. This particular plant is worth every scratch it leaves behind. It is the root stock from a variety called Mary Rose. Mary Rose graced us with delicate pink flowers for two or three years before she abandoned her efforts to live. I never got around to removing the root stock. Now, once a year its long arching canes are covered in deep red, exquisitely fragrant blossoms. As pretty as Mary Rose was, this one is far more beautiful, all the more so because its vines are vicious and its beauty is fleeting. This just goes to prove that procrastination does have its benefits.

It feels so good to play in the dirt while the sun beats down on my back. It seems like so many lifetimes ago when I was little girl and absolutely hated gardening in any way shape or form. Back then it was a hot, sweaty, angry job. Now it is relaxing pastime. Funny how things change.

Even while things change, they also manage to stay the same. My grandmother used to tell the story about how she used to walk behind the horses, breaking up clods with her bare feet. Now I can spend hours sprawled by our raised beds, crumbling the dirt between my fingers while stray ladybugs crawl over my bare toes. Every time I uncover an earthworm it reminds me of all the time I spent helping my beloved grandfather search for bait.

Green onions, crumbly dirt, confused earthworms and sweet memories are all to be found in the backyard on a warm spring evening. So are achy backs, sore legs and poison ivy. It will all be worth it when I pick or pull the first vegetable of the season, wipe it on my jeans and bite into freshness that will never be found in any grocery store.[[In-content Ad]]