When I was 9 years old we moved out of that apartment. We didn't go far but in gardening terms it was a whole new world. My parents bought a house with a huge yard a short distance away and my brother and I had visions of a dog running through that yard. My mother had other ideas. She promptly hired a guy with a tractor to tear up. Two thirds of the lawn was gone in an instant. What for? A garden of course.
Potatoes, asparagus, onions, broccoli, cauliflower and rhubarb were planted, among other things. I actually remember playing hide and go seek in the potato patch as the plants were big enough to hide me (or perhaps I was just that small?).
At that time in our lives my mother worked full time as a nurse and she wasn't able to do all the gardening herself. Instead she doled out the many gardening chores to us kids. Hilling potatoes, shelling peas, sowing carrots, weeding. I confess I didn't like it. No kids like chores but I was particularly discouraged with these tasks. I hated getting dirty. I was terrified of bugs. Being sent to the garden was misery and it was hard work. Worse, I was working to put vegetables on the table. Yuck. As far as I could see there was absolutely no benefit to this at all.
|Years later I planted bleeding hearts in my own garden, a reminder of my childhood|