Being born into a farming family, your disdain for weeding is familiar to me. I can remember running to my bicycle to escape the mandatory gardening/weeding chore under my father’s supervision. Here was a man who was born to a tomato farmer and had to spend much of his young life as a farmhand keeping the farm going. After his obligation to the country spent as a Corporeal in the US Army stationed in Germany post-WWII he came home to find work in any other job than farming. He became a bricklayer and did that for forty years.
Now you would think my father had had enough of the farm life, but no. My mother and he bought a modest home with a large property and he started his own tomato farm on a smaller scale. As Carl Perkins once said “You can take a boy out of the country but you can’t take the country of the boy”
By the way, my father always caught me before I could escape. Darn.
Fair enough, they were delicious. Then to mention the toil of canning all of those tomatoes for winter consumption done in our basement with boiling kettles of water to blanch and peel the fruit. Then more boiling kettles of water to can the tomatoes in a variety of recipes, whole, chopped, chili sauce, and spaghetti sauce dulled the memory of that delectable fresh-picked homegrown treasure the tomato just a tad. Yeah, they were good.
It reminds me of a cousin who grew up on a tobacco farm. Tobacco plants sprout flowers, called "suckers," that require removal lest the plant produces inferior leaves. The sucker is snapped off and a bit of mineral oil is applied to the wound. It is tedious work. Ugly green tobacco worms frequently are encountered which ooze a greenish slime when mashed when the sucker is snapped off. Imagine, hot sun, tobacco gum, solitude...one's mind tends to drift. When my cousin went to college and encountered Zen, he realized he'd been a practitioner of that for years when he was suckering. (He became an orthodontist.)
Sorry I missed seeing you and your wife at The Kate. I saw the play this past Sunday at the matinee and there were about 3 men in the audience...very brave ones thought I!
Can't imagine the misery of working in the hot sun in the south from sunrise to sunset 6-7 days a week doing that back breaking work and having no choice. 30 minutes of weeding and I am drained and hurry into my cool air-conditioned casa. So much to be grateful for..
I think there's a difference between "farming" and "gardening". In my experience, you do the former mostly standing up, while the latter occupation is performed mainly on the knees. When I grew produce to be sold by a broker at the Los Angeles Regional Market, there were four acres of rows of squash or radishes or watermelon plants to be hoed, standing. Most of the time, the growing process went to completion. With the watermelon, however, coyotes figured out to get through our limited fencing. One hot night they gorged themselves, gnawing the ripe melons open and gulping down the pink, seedless pulp! The next day , after searching the battlefield, we found eleven whole fruits, hardly enough to bother taking to market! I had promised a "delivery" though, so I drove those few fruits to market!
As a PHC fan, I really enjoyed it when you spoke about your family's vegetable garden. "Tomato Butt" was one of my all-time favorite tales! I think the main difference was that I had volunteered to become a small-time grower, whereas from your stories, it seems to me that it was "enforced labor" for you - not that different than slavery!
On the other hand, "gardening " is done down on your knees. You feel close to a congregation of mixed membership,. It boils down to a process of selection. "These are the favored ones. Those have nasty habits, and should be rooted out. Dandelions, for example, have such a superior means of propagation that they need to be forked out of a lawn. Once, when I was ten or so, Dad offered me a nickel a piece for entire dandelion plants. I slaved away in the lawn, producing a pile of 100+ specimens. When Dad came by, he reneged on his agreement. He felt that $5 was just too much for a child of my age to be burdened with! It seems odd, these days, to think of the inflation that has occurred over the years. Children these days might look at a Federal greenback with Lincoln frowning away on it, and glare disrespectfully at the donor: "Is that all? What can I get with that?"
Back to farming versus gardening, though. With farming, the farmer might see the plants impersonally, as "a crop." With gardening, on the other hand, once decisions have been made: "This one is fantastic! Make life easier for every one that's here!" Or "Wicked Weed! Root it out! Eliminate it!" The value judgement may or may not hold on every front. When I see thistles, my reflex is to pull them out. Then I remember my visit to a local Amish farm family. They had a yard bursting with thistles: thistles to give nectar to their honey bees! They cherished those thorny-leaved giants!
It could be that this is an allegory about "mind-sets." It's easy to see the world mostly from our own point of view. At times, though, it might be significant to try and view things from other aspects as well. I bet those coyotes really enjoyed those four acres of watermelon! And the next time I see a thistle, I'll leave it for the bees!
My wife, like yours is a passionate gardener. She has a relationship with every plant in her yard. But woe unto you if your are a weed...there is no mercy. And of course, the garden is a work of art, which is the point, I think, for her. For me, it is simply the beauty of my backyard. Oh, and she loves bawdy limericks and dirty jokes. There must be a connection, don't you think?
Oh that stopping a shooter with the lecture from an old lady were so real. Warms my heart, that showing of respect for the advice from an old neighbor.
The limerick 💕
Being born into a farming family, your disdain for weeding is familiar to me. I can remember running to my bicycle to escape the mandatory gardening/weeding chore under my father’s supervision. Here was a man who was born to a tomato farmer and had to spend much of his young life as a farmhand keeping the farm going. After his obligation to the country spent as a Corporeal in the US Army stationed in Germany post-WWII he came home to find work in any other job than farming. He became a bricklayer and did that for forty years.
Now you would think my father had had enough of the farm life, but no. My mother and he bought a modest home with a large property and he started his own tomato farm on a smaller scale. As Carl Perkins once said “You can take a boy out of the country but you can’t take the country of the boy”
By the way, my father always caught me before I could escape. Darn.
You neglected to mention the taste of fresh homegrown tomatoes which was a shining delight and which was the point of the whole enterprise.
Fair enough, they were delicious. Then to mention the toil of canning all of those tomatoes for winter consumption done in our basement with boiling kettles of water to blanch and peel the fruit. Then more boiling kettles of water to can the tomatoes in a variety of recipes, whole, chopped, chili sauce, and spaghetti sauce dulled the memory of that delectable fresh-picked homegrown treasure the tomato just a tad. Yeah, they were good.
It reminds me of a cousin who grew up on a tobacco farm. Tobacco plants sprout flowers, called "suckers," that require removal lest the plant produces inferior leaves. The sucker is snapped off and a bit of mineral oil is applied to the wound. It is tedious work. Ugly green tobacco worms frequently are encountered which ooze a greenish slime when mashed when the sucker is snapped off. Imagine, hot sun, tobacco gum, solitude...one's mind tends to drift. When my cousin went to college and encountered Zen, he realized he'd been a practitioner of that for years when he was suckering. (He became an orthodontist.)
We didn't raise tobacco in Minnesota because smoking is a vice, so our Zen was corn-hoeing. Revising my novel reminds me very much of hoeing corn.
Sorry I missed seeing you and your wife at The Kate. I saw the play this past Sunday at the matinee and there were about 3 men in the audience...very brave ones thought I!
Can't imagine the misery of working in the hot sun in the south from sunrise to sunset 6-7 days a week doing that back breaking work and having no choice. 30 minutes of weeding and I am drained and hurry into my cool air-conditioned casa. So much to be grateful for..
Please tell your wife to check for ticks when she comes in. Lime's Disease is a virtual epidemic this year.
She's the one who goes in the woods, I only sit on the porch, so I'll check her.
Oops, sorry about that. Lyme Disease.
I think there's a difference between "farming" and "gardening". In my experience, you do the former mostly standing up, while the latter occupation is performed mainly on the knees. When I grew produce to be sold by a broker at the Los Angeles Regional Market, there were four acres of rows of squash or radishes or watermelon plants to be hoed, standing. Most of the time, the growing process went to completion. With the watermelon, however, coyotes figured out to get through our limited fencing. One hot night they gorged themselves, gnawing the ripe melons open and gulping down the pink, seedless pulp! The next day , after searching the battlefield, we found eleven whole fruits, hardly enough to bother taking to market! I had promised a "delivery" though, so I drove those few fruits to market!
As a PHC fan, I really enjoyed it when you spoke about your family's vegetable garden. "Tomato Butt" was one of my all-time favorite tales! I think the main difference was that I had volunteered to become a small-time grower, whereas from your stories, it seems to me that it was "enforced labor" for you - not that different than slavery!
On the other hand, "gardening " is done down on your knees. You feel close to a congregation of mixed membership,. It boils down to a process of selection. "These are the favored ones. Those have nasty habits, and should be rooted out. Dandelions, for example, have such a superior means of propagation that they need to be forked out of a lawn. Once, when I was ten or so, Dad offered me a nickel a piece for entire dandelion plants. I slaved away in the lawn, producing a pile of 100+ specimens. When Dad came by, he reneged on his agreement. He felt that $5 was just too much for a child of my age to be burdened with! It seems odd, these days, to think of the inflation that has occurred over the years. Children these days might look at a Federal greenback with Lincoln frowning away on it, and glare disrespectfully at the donor: "Is that all? What can I get with that?"
Back to farming versus gardening, though. With farming, the farmer might see the plants impersonally, as "a crop." With gardening, on the other hand, once decisions have been made: "This one is fantastic! Make life easier for every one that's here!" Or "Wicked Weed! Root it out! Eliminate it!" The value judgement may or may not hold on every front. When I see thistles, my reflex is to pull them out. Then I remember my visit to a local Amish farm family. They had a yard bursting with thistles: thistles to give nectar to their honey bees! They cherished those thorny-leaved giants!
It could be that this is an allegory about "mind-sets." It's easy to see the world mostly from our own point of view. At times, though, it might be significant to try and view things from other aspects as well. I bet those coyotes really enjoyed those four acres of watermelon! And the next time I see a thistle, I'll leave it for the bees!
“We are all sinners in extreme heat.” I like that, especially since there’s more than one way to read it.
I once heard guitarist Martin Simpson describe a summer tent revival meeting. He said, "Righteousness and humidity, a dangerous combination."
My wife, like yours is a passionate gardener. She has a relationship with every plant in her yard. But woe unto you if your are a weed...there is no mercy. And of course, the garden is a work of art, which is the point, I think, for her. For me, it is simply the beauty of my backyard. Oh, and she loves bawdy limericks and dirty jokes. There must be a connection, don't you think?
A gardener married to Jerry
Was passionate for him (but very)
So they would have sex
With a string round their necks
Of tomatoes, peas, and rosemary.
There once was a poet named Garrison
Who'd come up with lyrics quite embarressen'
They'd cause quite an scandal
And people would fly off the handle
Saying those words were clearly a mortal sin
Go back to your gardening, sir.
Oh that stopping a shooter with the lecture from an old lady were so real. Warms my heart, that showing of respect for the advice from an old neighbor.