My Home Garden
It was alive, a dependable friend, a dream I never wanted to end, but ask me where it is now, dead? Yes, but before that, I think I’ll share with you reasons why you should not call me a garden-assassin.
Hoe, cutlass, trowel, watering-can, and seeds, my dream was blessed to come true. Apart from the part-time option of having a garden, the number of lessons that gardens taught me, I could not underestimate, and this justified why I needed to own a garden.
From the sprouting of the seedlings, to the joy of hearing drizzles of heavenly showers on my plants, to the sun proudly displaying it’s majesty, facilitating plant life; photosynthesis every morning, I found intense pleasure watching as nature dealt with my effort.
Even the not so good times were lessons; life not only has to be good, but that there’s once hope existed, things would change, then when the rain destroyed any plant, another lesson; storing all your blessings without sharing could be detrimental, a lesson of drainage and paths in my garden.
Beans, watermelon, pepper and tomato seeds. Hard work and determination. I would come around after school hours and plant, water and till. Weeds shooting was another delight: removing the chaff from the whole. Like having read Angels and Demons by Dan Brown and seeing the movie on television, the ecstasy of practicality after theoretical infusion in my young mind in primary school generated much more interest.
The talk about pests, insects and no rain frightened me, to me, I owned my first property. Seedlings matured to plants, plants bearing fruits, fruits served in the home by me, ‘all-natural’, an achievement so dear. Never hyped, the level of satisfaction with my garden was immense and intense.
Until they came. Who? Risky and Cheetah. I tried, I yelled and even cried. Two stubborn dogs, like the one our old folks say, ‘Odomfo-Kumfo’ translated killer-helper’. Security conscious but highly destructive. There were times I would wake up in the morning to see my plants ripped apart. They would dig into the only two beds I had and feel comfortable in the soil.
The dream still continued. Placed boards to become barriers, like Starks, they rode them over, I couldn’t stay a man of the night’s watch, just couldn’t help it. See me in the morning yell and curse at these dogs, striking them and trying to teach them good lessons, but after three days, their obedience sunk with their supper.
They killed my garden, they pierced it’s side, I took sometime to reflect, and after ten to eleven years, gardens have still been a passion, one thing every architectural plan for a home should have, embedded for family life, appreciation of nature and exercise.
In my article, ‘Benefits of home gardening you may have ignored’, I wrote somewhere last year on my blog, bobbywrites.Wordpress.com, I outlined the benefits of home gardening, some of which were relaxation in the greenly colorful environment, family times; assigning your daughter to the melons, your son to the tomatoes, yourself, to probably the weeding and pruning, exercises for the aging, celebrating good harvests with family and friends, preparing priceless fruit salads or vegetable casseroles with your own garden produce. You could send some to your neighbors or pastors and share your gardening experiences with friends on social media. Gardening is simply a beautiful venture.
So just as said in the very beginning, you understand very well why I am not a garden-assassin now. But I’ll tell you, it’s a beautiful thing, it’s a good way to spend time, and I cannot wait to have the perfect opportunity to create another garden, one for flowers and others for fruits and vegetables.
Gardening rocks and to my lovely dogs, Risky and Cheetah, rest in peace, who have been replaced by Chinese, Sniper and Moscow.
Photo Credit: http://www.willowguesthouse.co.za/