The Garden of Weedin'

In my grandpa's backyard, beyond two pear trees where a garage should have stood, was a garden. The Garden of Weedin' to be more specific. I remember him chuckling at the small black sign with all capital white letters. I also remember laughing along, even though I didn't get the pun at the time, because I desperately wanted to be in on the joke. The garden was massive, row after row of neatly organized plants and flowers. And not a weed in sight. 

Rhubarb, pears, and dandelions were picked and turned into strawberry-rhubarb pies, dried pears, and dandelion wine. I remember walking through the garden, plants towering over my three foot frame, mesmerized. At that time, I felt as though I could get lost wandering through each section.

In actuality, the garden was the size of a very large two-car garage--the one that my grandpa had built when he realized his gardening and weeding days were winding down.

When we bought our home five years ago, the backyard had a garden. During our first summer we grew more tomatoes than we knew what to do with (especially since only one person in our house actually likes them...and it's not me).  We patted ourselves on the back for the successful season, and vowed to make next year's garden bigger and better. And...that's when kids came along. For the next four summers the garden took the back burner. Sure, we planted the obligatory tomatoes, even attempting to grow seeds indoors one winter. But life got in the way. Daily watering, weeding, and general tending was not a priority, so the deer that roam through our backyard were treated to a vegetable buffet several summers in a row.

Earlier this spring, over casual dinner conversation, Colin, my four-year-old, declared that this would be the summer to get that garden going again. He started rattling off the various outdoor chores we'd each be responsible for: he would be in charge of the garden, and most importantly, the hose, which undoubtedly will be turned from the garden and aimed at his little brother on more than one occasion this summer; Jack will need to mow the lawn, which certainly seems like a logical chore for a two-year-old; and me? My job, he said, will be to bring them both juice boxes and popsicles. He concluded that we'd be a team, and the backyard would look beautiful. How could I argue with that arrangement?

So over a very warm Memorial Day weekend we got to work: weeding, digging, and mulching our way through four years of neglect. What I thought would be a quick couple of hours turned into a full day's project--alright, it took two days. We planted tomatoes, cucumbers, strawberries, beans, peas, basil, parsley, and peas, along with some very high netting to keep the deer from getting anywhere near OUR vegetable buffet.

I know this garden will be a huge undertaking. I have a black thumb, and am  notorious for planting shade plants in the full sun and vice versa...but maybe this year, this garden of weedin' will be different. 

While I'm not sure the corn will be "knee high by the 4th of July," I'm determined to make this garden a success--to honor my grandpa, to get my boys to eat more vegetables, and most importantly, to finish something I start, black thumb and all. 

-Laura