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What my garden taught me.... the hard way
My step-dad Bill used to call me a Weed Witch. He and my mother shared a 65 acre horse farm and we bought 3 acres of it several years ago. To Bill, my husband Dave was a "hard worker and great farm hand." Dave helped him as much as he could when he wasn't at work ( which usually involved a tractor, his favorite toy). No matter how much Mom and I tried to convince Bill I'd been raised around country folk most of my life and this was Dave's first stint out here, I was just a transplanted "city woman" to him. I suspect that's because I was thrown from a horse which broke my back (literally) our first year here and I quit fooling around with horses then. My value had become severely limited to him. LOL
The one special thing Bill and I shared was a love of gardening. In 1986 he stole my heart the first time I visited his farm on vacation and I watched him nurturing two baby oak trees in the front of their house. A 73 year old man of small stature was carrying two 5 gallon buckets of water to feed his little "twigs" twice daily because there was a drought. He wanted to make sure they got "just enough" water at the right flow rate in a manner only he could master. We had several debates over why he couldn't use the water hose and I finally gave up trying to understand. Something about getting the proper water flow per minute because of the clay in the soil and he'd rather do it himself. I mean, this was a man with a MISSION. Even the neighbors knew about his trees. I remember giggling about it then but I see these towering majestic trees over 20 years later and fondly remember the day they were planted and their first weeks of life on the farm.
Over the years, we talked of our love for plants and gardens, and I'd help him with his garden yearly when I came home to visit. Eventually, we talked Bill into selling us our piece of the farm so we would be close enough to help out. He was well into his 80's but by no means disabled then. That's where the fun began.
We were land rich and money poor the first couple of years and I am impatient. Much to Bill's embarrassment, I'd frequently go on excursions to other people's property (with permission of course, they still carry shot guns in this neck of the woods) to beg, borrow or steal some of their plants and seeds for my garden.
To me, 3 acres is a gardener's paradise and I love watching things grow. Well, I "would" love it, if I knew what I was doing. Having lived in rentals for decades before we finally bought our land, I was accustomed to container gardening and the occasional 3' x 8' foot postage stamp garden was the best I could get. Having a plot of land was a mammoth undertaking for me. Most of the time it's been hit or miss with me on what will grow in "my yard" vs. where it was when I found it! You'd think those pretty flowers in the middle of a field which haven't been touched by humans would be happy and perky when similarly situated in the middle of MY field just across the road, right? Not! These great field books stop short of telling you how to keep the darn things alive once you find them and take them home, regardless of how ginger you are with the roots!
Living in the "wild," so to speak, I thought it would be a good education for my less than enthusiastic daughter to go hiking and learn about her environment. Each season of the year brings a whole new crop of interesting plants to investigate. In 10 years she's gone with me about 12 times, maybe less! Her idea of roughing it in the wild is finding a good stick and practicing Tai Kwon Fu Shwelates!
Alas, there are very few who enjoy weed witching with me. Dave will gladly go on a two mile nature walk or a brisk bike ride, but he seems to disappear when the books and buckets come out. Yet I find myself at peace when I come home with my discoveries and I don't mind them laughing at me any more. In fact, I'm glad to provide SOMEONE with entertainment.
Each trip, I remember the times I'd come back and show Bill something odd or unique only to be told it was a weed. Didn't matter what color it was, how nice the smell, how cool it was to find herbs growing in an abandoned garden long forgotten, it was always, simply A WEED! It was infuriating, especially when I thought I'd made a major find of something (to me) exotic that was about to be decimated by a plow, hay baler or a manure spreader! I had become an environmentalist (of sorts) and was saving valued species one plant at a time.
After 10 years, most of my neighbors are used to me by now but they still raise their eyebrows when I show up with my field books, buckets and tools. In fact, Bill's term of endearment for me seems to have taken root in our entire county! Now everyone calls me a Weed Witch! It took me years to realize flowers, herbs, flowing vines and ornamentals are nothing more than weeds to farmers and ranchers. If YOU can't eat it or the ANIMALS you raise can't eat it, IT'S A WEED! I guess we all have a need to be known for something, but this wasn't my top pick when we moved here!
Over the years, I've built up quite an odd collection of plants out here. I usually have a "showcase" garden every year, chock full of (my) old favorites, "wild" herbs and at least one or two new species I've never tried before, along with a broken back for all my efforts.
My sister-in-law used to be a basket case when her kids and I would take off because she never knew what they'd eaten when they got back. They were still young enough to enjoy the adventure of taking off with their favorite Aunt/Witch. My nephew Johnathan even developed a healthy appetite for thistle flowers (which are a great nutritional addition to a salad I might add). They're a delicacy in some places and local shops pay top dollar for thistle heads. Even though I showed her my books before I let them try anything, she was always convinced I'd poison one of them.
I didn't do my usual "year end" chores in the garden last fall and this year, for the first time, I didn't plant a bulb, sprout or seed. I was ashamed of myself but I was too busy building a website, taking care of my family, my Mom and the various and asundried other things I am interested in! While I didn't have a showcase, I was surprised to find plants I usually rip out at the end of the season had came back on their own. Finally, my weeds were taking care of themselves. The lesson here was to start collecting those seeds, instead of buying them!
Several years ago, I planted wild lilies in my garden. Bill always said lilies would never survive a transplant, much less a winter here and they were a waste of time. That was our last summer together. After his death, I planted a number of peace lilies Mom brought back from the funeral home. The first year, only one or two came back but the next, all of them came back in white and orange splendor and had even multiplied! The gentle reminders of Bill make me smile.
To top it off, the joy of being a Weed Witch really hit home after my second year of "weed witching." I was sitting on our front porch watching the sun go down with Mom. We were sipping tea seasoned with my home grown mint and she raved over it. At the same time, she was commenting about a patch of "weeds" that needed pulling before they spread out of control. She was talking about my mint! I just smiled and offered her more tea, saving my weed witch defense lecture for another day.