Over
the years, when we would have the missionaries over for dinner, they
would always ask before they left if there was anything they could do
for us, and we always answered no. Sometimes I would laugh a little
and say that I needed lots of things, but none of them were things
that they could help with.
We
would send them on their way. I think I felt that if we asked them
for anything we would be taking them away from their work, so if
there was any other way to solve a need we shouldn’t call on
them.
Then
we had to move, and one of our chief volunteers, with a truck and
trailer, was our former bishop and current mission leader. He called
up the missionaries, and the elders pitched into the needed labors
several times, and with willing smiles. That was wonderful, and so
much help — and moving was one of the classic types of service
that young elders did.
On
one of those days, as they were hauling boxes out and loading them,
this good friend and mission leader said, in an aside to me, “I
wish the members would understand and use these guys more often, as
they need to be used. This is a big part of what their service is
supposed to be about.”
That
made me pause. Such service was part of their work, not taking them
away from their work. It was okay to ask.
One
of the things we asked the listing agent to add to our rental
agreement was that we had permission to put in a small garden. She
assured us that this was no problem at all — where did we plan
to put it?
I
didn’t know yet, exactly, because I hadn’t had a chance
to look with that in mind. It’s a small lot, and I was
envisioning someplace in the back; but when we had a chance to look,
there was a natural spot along the street side.
The
property slopes slightly from front to back, and from the house to
the side street. If you go out the back door you step onto a
platform, and then you have to go left, down three steps, or right
and down four, to the cement walkway that runs along the back and
continues to the side gate and out to the sidewalk.
Rather
than keep the sideways slope, someone, at some point, had built a
retaining wall and put a chain link fence on top, along the street
side so that the ground in the back yard was straight until it hit
the fence. (There’s a hedge along the sidewalk, up that side
and across the front, outside of the chain-link fence threaded
through with vinyl strips. The other two boundaries, the interior
side and the back length, have wooden fences.)
I
measured the width of one lawnmower pass along the side of the house,
and that left a seven-by-seven-foot square section, which served as
an automatic raised bed. It even had a small line of cinder blocks
on the far side, away from the back walkway. Perfect, but it was
overgrown.
Neither
one of us was capable of digging it up. But we had always grown
something, even if it had come down to only tomatoes and zucchini.
The
previous year, for the first time, we hadn’t even had that.
Because I was in an accident and my husband wrenched his knee within
the same week, we didn’t even grow tomatoes in 2012. A
generous friend found all her various tomato plants booming at the
same time and shared her surplus, which kept us out of misery, but we
had none of our own.
As
far as I’m concerned, one of the reasons to have summer at all
is to be able to have real tomatoes. Here was a place with
sunshine and easy reach, but we needed some help.
We
asked the missionaries if they could come dig up the garden space for
us. I promised that if they were still in our ward when the
vegetables were ready, I would feed them from it, and if not I would
feed whoever was. They came and worked hard.
I
planted gallon pots of tomatoes that did splendidly, likewise starts
for snow peas. I started beets inside, which didn’t grow after
they went into the ground. Chard did okay. I thought of beans late,
and, assured by a friend that there was time for them, I planted
seeds that shot up fast and then stalled into nothing.
I was so happy to see these little purple and green bits coming up last year. Unfortunately, they didn't make it later
out in the cold cruel ground, in proximity to the potatoes. My first try at growing beets failed.
I
had put potatoes into the section in the far corner. My mistake.
They apparently crowded out everything underground, usurping
nourishment.
I
did get potatoes, harvesting some of them when they were quite small
so that our garden-digging elder from an Idaho farm could get a
dinner before his transfer, with those potatoes, snow peas, and
cherry tomatoes to demonstrate our appreciation and thanks —
and to show that their efforts had not been wasted.
(He
looked at the tiny potatoes and said, “Umm, those are cute.”
I just wanted him to get to eat some; we left the rest to grow some
more.)
So
I vowed, of course, that next year (which is this year) I would know
how to do this better. This year new elders kindly came to dig it up
again and spade the earth to make it ready, and I began again. Later
they came back for a second round and dug up a section on the other
side of the back walkway. We were ready to go.
I
missed my chance for the source of the same perfect tomatoes, so we
bought different varieties somewhere else. I had had my taste buds
set all winter for those “chocolate cherry” tomatoes, and
didn’t find them. We bought five different kinds with
different maturation schedules, so they would bear fruit in sequence.
I put the really tall tomato cages, as it turns out, around the
plants that didn’t grow tall at all.
Here is my brand new garden space last year, with the tomatoes and sugar peas planted. Both of those did well.
The
golden cherry tomato plant has been prolific, but the longest branch
shot out below the first rung on its wire cage and goes out on the
ground where it could rot, so I have to check on it daily.
I
bought a different variety of sugar peas, and it was a
disappointment. We only got about half the total of last year, so
I’ve found and planted some seeds of the type I bought last
year in hopes that they’ll grow another crop before it gets
cold.
I
bought starts and seeds for three different kinds of beans, and I’ve
decided that pole beans are easier to grow and pick than bush beans.
The winner for next year is “Kentucky Blue Pole,” which
is a cross between “blue lake” and “Kentucky
wonder” types — they definitely win the taste and ease
tests. Oh, they’re good.
I
wanted to grow winter squash, not just zucchini. My favorite type
wasn’t in the local stores last fall, so I went looking online
and found that “red kuri” is a Japanese heirloom squash,
and I ordered seeds. They’ve developed more slowly than the
instructions said, but I’m hoping they set fruit. I have more
seeds for next year, and I’ve found other types I want to try.
Notice
that I’m making plans for next year.
I
learned more things this year — not all my problems were solved
by last year’s first try. I moved the potatoes over to the
other section, so I will get beets — but this year the potatoes
didn’t come up at all. The squash will go over there again,
where there’s plenty of room. Now I just hope for enough bees.
Beans
are wonderful, but you have to make sure they have enough support
height, and I know which type of sugar peas will thrive. I think I
lost most of my golden beets, but I have a few, so we can see how
they compare.
I
need to plant more chard. I tried leaf lettuce for the first time,
buying a group of assorted starts at the farmer’s market, and I
might skip that next time.
One
type I didn’t like, one I loved but I haven’t been able
to identify what it is (it has triangular leaves, thick like butter
lettuce and sweet), and the others were just okay. I need to plant
more green beans in staggered start dates, and I’m going to
plant spinach even though my husband gets his chard and he considers
it to be “instead of” spinach.
And
there will always be tomatoes. If I can’t have tomatoes, you
can forget about the whole thing.
Here is our first full-size tomato this year. Many more are coming.
I’m
so grateful for the service of those with strong backs and a
willingness to attack my plot of dirt, twice this year. Otherwise, I
wouldn’t be able to have fresh food on my table from my own
ground. Nothing else tastes as good. I fed this year’s elders
on Sunday with green beans and cherry tomatoes, and since these two
really like to dig into dirt, they’re coming back to help again
with something else.
That’s
one of the blessings of this life, that you can try new things, you
can test out your ideas, and you can try again as you learn from
imperfect experiences. It’s all right to make mistakes, and to
not be an expert. You can find those who enjoy sharing the process
with you, and pass along the gifts that come. There
are so many kinds of gifts. Life is good.
Marian J. Stoddard was born in Washington, D.C., and grew up in its Maryland suburbs. Her
father grew up in Carson City, Nevada, and her mother in Salt Lake City, so she was always
partly a Westerner at heart, and she ended up raising her family in Washington State. Her family
took road trips all over the United States and Canada, so there were lots of adventures.
The adventures of music, literature, and art were also valued and pursued. Playing tourist always
included the local museums as well as historical sites and places of natural beauty. Discussions
at home, around the dinner table or working in the kitchen, could cover politics, philosophy, or
poetry, with the perspective of the gospel underlying all. Words and ideas, and testimony and
service, were the family currency.
Marian graduated from Winston Churchill High School in Potomac, Maryland, and attended the
University of Utah as the recipient of the Ralph Hardy Memorial Scholarship, where she was
graduated with honors, receiving a B.A. in English. She also met the love of her life, a law
student, three weeks after her arrival; she jokes that she had to marry him because her mother
always wanted a tenor in the family. (She sings second soprano.) They were married two years
later and have six children and six grandchildren (so far). She treasures her family, her friends,
and her opportunities to serve.
Visit Marian at her blog, greaterthansparrows. You can contact her at
bloggermarian@gmail.com.
Marian and her husband live in Tacoma, Washington. Together they teach those who are
preparing to go to the temple for the first time, and she also teaches a Stake Relief Society
Institute class.