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.
My lanai had two pots on it,
Each one with a worm in it.
Healthy, big tomato plants:
I married, and we bought–a steal–
A ranch out in the ‘burbs.
I jumped for joy and put in bulbs
And culinary herbs.
The trees all needed pruning
And the weeds were five feet tall.
But underneath were raised beds
And a stately old rock wall.
My nemesis became a tree
That hosts a plague of beetles,
And those poorly-chosen woodchips–
They give slivers sharp as needles!
My heroes are the honeybees:
A blessing on this planet.
All hail, in turn, the plant food stakes
That saved my pomegranate!
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.
From Oregon I ordered
Compost activation kits,
The worms now have a paradise,
And we’re swamped with cucurbits.
Many months, dollars, tears,
Toils, and curses later,
It’s civilized, almost (not quite)
And I’m a cultivator.
Sometimes, on warm evenings,
I miss the urban scene,
But I can visit, and the tradeoff
Is, my thumbs are finally green.