See, my father was the one who introduced me to gardening, but this was more than a decade after he had stopped gardening himself. My mother often speaks of times when my father would go out and spend a whole day planting in the spring and then she, with the help of her mother, would pull weeds and harvest throughout the season. It wasn't a huge garden, but it was big enough to produce plenty of fresh food for them. They grew the usual: carrots, beans, tomatoes, onions, peas, cabbage, corn, kale, cucumbers, potatoes and of course rhubarb.
It's odd for me to think of my garden ever being the way it was. Growing up, our yard was always a mess but it never mattered because our house is nestled behind some woods, no view to (or from) the road. I recall the main walkway; always covered in greenery thanks to some horsetail that decided to creep out of the nearby gardens. And the basement windows, always covered with weeds because the thistles decided bricks made for a great soil-less growing medium.
The front garden bed was never flower filled, to me it was just an odd extension of the lawn that had been raised off the ground and left uncut (though I never did understand why anyone would plant grass in a raised bed). This is what I remember, what I started with. It's the reason I have such a hard time with weeds since there are still many areas that I have yet to tackle after almost two decades of neglect. It wasn't always this way though my mother says, things were different and maybe, just maybe, with a little work we can relive those days again!
I am simply a gardener who loves plants, nature, writing, photography, art and all things rustic, vintage and unique. Leave a comment or connect with me on Twitter! I'd love to hear from you!