Becoming a Gardener - A Poem
Here is a silly simple-minded poem about the urge to garden, and how I became acquainted with the challenges posed by the neglected half acre that became my home.
A frustrated young gardener
Trapped in a third floor flat,
I yearned to have a plot of land,
A hoe, and a sun hat.
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My lanai had two pots on it,
Each one with a worm in it.
Healthy, big tomato plants:
Hybrid, indeterminate.
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I married, and we bought–a steal–
A ranch out in the ‘burbs.
I jumped for joy and put in bulbs
And culinary herbs.
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The trees all needed pruning
And the weeds were five feet tall.
But underneath were raised beds
And a stately old rock wall.
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My nemesis became a tree
That hosts a plague of beetles,
And those poorly-chosen woodchips–
They give slivers sharp as needles!
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My heroes are the honeybees:
A blessing on this planet.
All hail, in turn, the plant food stakes
That saved my pomegranate!
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I've learned to wait, and watch and hope,
By growing things from seeds.
I've reveled in the therapy
One gets from pulling weeds.
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From Oregon I ordered
Compost activation kits,
The worms now have a paradise,
And we’re swamped with cucurbits.
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Many months, dollars, tears,
Toils, and curses later,
It’s civilized, almost (not quite)
And I’m a cultivator.
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Sometimes, on warm evenings,
I miss the urban scene,
But I can visit, and the tradeoff
Is, my thumbs are finally green.
