This Year's Garden, Part One

 

Yesterday was really warm. Warm enough outside that a sweatshirt without a jacket over it was plenty. (Today, at least as I type this, is also warm, but the temperature will fall later today.) Warren did a fair amount of his shop work outside on the back patio, which his shop (the repurposed garage) opens directly onto. He had instrument parts to spray, and I could hear the telltale rattle of the spray paint can as he shook it walking back and forth.

Our next door neighbors were out in the far back part of their yard with a large measuring tape spread across the grass. Having baked sourdough crackers to share, I walked a container over to them and got to see what was going on. Warren joined me as well.

They had staked out a 10' x 20' area of grass, with a continuous string connecting three of the four stakes. "We're trying corn this year," said Maura, nodding at the plot.

Adam chimed in. "From what we read, you need at least a ten by ten plot so the corn gets fertilized, so we went slightly larger. We're planning on enclosing it with chicken wire to try to keep the critters out." He looked at the grassy plot. "Getting that turned over will take some time." 

Maura turned to me. "So have you ever grown corn?"

As a matter of fact, I have grown corn in town at the house I lived in when my children were younger, just a few blocks from where I live now. I thought back to that long ago experience and said, "Yes and the biggest issue was the squirrels." 

Eyebrows went up. 

"Squirrels would eat the shoots as they came up,"I explained. "I mean, they didn't get them all, or even most of them, but I learned to really dislike squirrels."

Alice, their young daughter, spoke up. "We could put a top over the garden to keep the squirrels out."

No, not a solution, said Adam.

We talked gardens for a while longer: what they planned (hoped) to grow, what I plan (hope) to grow. I blogged very little about last year's gardens, for many reasons, and am hoping this year will be more satisfying and more productive.

Adam mentioned they had ordered "a lot" of peat moss starter sets. "More than we thought." Would I like one? 

Absolutely.

They turned back to their corn-patch-to-be. Warren headed back to his shop. I talked to our neighbors on the other side, who were also out enjoying the sun and warmth, then headed inside. The afternoon rolled on.

Much later that day, Warren came into the kitchen with a tray in his hand and a quizzical look on his face.

"Peat pots? Are these for you?" He had missed Adam's offer outside.

Yes, peat pots! And a starter tray! 

Just a few days earlier, I had bought a bag of Seed Starting Mix. I don't start all the garden inside like I used to; I buy most of my major starts (tomatoes, peppers, cabbage, cauliflower, broccoli) at a local farm market. But after my pitched battle with squirrels over the zucchini last spring, I'm starting the zucchini inside and will use the peat pots for that. During our travels last summer, I picked a few flower heads gone to seed from ditches along the road. I have been saving small yogurt cups and larger ice cream containers through the winter and will use those filled with the starter mix to try to sprout the flowers.

Even with climate change, it is still too early in central Ohio to start planting a garden. The farm market I mentioned above, a family run one on the edge of Delaware, will not even open until April 1. I still have to put some thought into what and how much I am growing. I will talk with my dad to see if he wants me to plant anything for him; at almost 89, he may not be doing much gardening this year, but I also know what it means to him to have a few plants out in his back garden. A friend I just talked with mentioned she would be gone too much of the summer to try to keep tomato plants going; I reassured her tomatoes would not be a problem. 

So yes, there is still planning to do. But the warmth and the neighbors and the talk and the peat pots have lightened my heart and stirred my thoughts. 

Spring is coming. So is gardening.