© 2026 Robert Sickles
I cheer her on when she’s winning, and nurse her when she’s fallen. I will give her my blood, sweat, and tears. She both wounds me and restores me. When I’m cold, I ache for her sun. Every day, we hold each other in joy. We are like the estuary where a river meets the ocean tides, pushing against each other now, then flowing together later.
I bet you think I’m talking about an extraordinary loving relationship with my vegetable garden, right? Yes! Absolutely!
For many, gardening is a summer fling, but I assure you it’s more than that. I’ve said before that my garden is like a retreat, a chapel; growing, harvesting and partaking are blessings. In that space, there is something for me throughout the year, even when it’s all gray and frozen.
My backyard garden lies low on the brink of a foggy-bottom ravine where cooler air settles. It is surrounded by tall firs and maples, all outside my property lines. We love the trees, but damn the trees! While some gardeners are able to start with the warmth of early spring, I must wait some weeks longer for the sun to come here. I’ve learned what can grow in partial sun, but I suppose a mushroom garden would make the most sense.
My soil could be called mediocre. Even after decades of adding compost and minerals, it’s only a little improved from a dense, stony challenge. Some glacier must have paused here to dump its load of coarsely milled grist. Some younger stronger me, years ago, should have trucked in yards and yards of the good stuff. Nevertheless, every spring I plan & plot, plow & plant with as much optimism as ever.
Nudged by seed catalogs that come in late winter’s mail, my spring enthusiasm stirs. I have collected books and studied websites, consulted the Almanacs, and asked the experts. I have made tons of compost, wrangled worms, erected greenhouses, planted with Moon phases, used affirmations to change my thinking, talked to the plants, and solicited the intervention of angels and garden fairies. Do any of these things help? I’m not sure… in gardening, as in life itself, it pays to be philosophical. Success is as much about enjoying the journey as it is about reaching the destination.
I dote and coddle my seedling “babies” as they bask in their nest on the windowsill. Then comes the heart-breaking yet hopeful time to set them out to face night predators and the onslaught of the elements. I hold my breath as they learn to fly.
My vision of a bounty harvest stays with me throughout the growing season, as though maybe, just possibly, each year’s garden will turn out better. You know how they say “…doing the same things and expecting different results.” Yes, that’s the definition of you-know-what, all right. But I never know, there are those variables of nature that could make it a great garden year—that’s where my hope springs.
So here are the pros and cons of gardening as they apply to my situation:
PROS:
- gardening is good for my heart and soul;
- it gets me out exercising in the sun;
- it does give us some wonderful organic produce;
- I have always thought of myself as a gardener, both literally and metaphorically;
- it feels right to be in sync with the cycles of life and the seasons that come with being an observant gardener;
- as the Chinese would say, crisis and opportunity are the same thing—failure in the garden leads to being inventive;
- gardening provides some surprises. I like to recall the time at the end of one season when I found just one tiny cantaloupe hidden among the vines that I was dejectedly tossing into the compost, assuming a failed effort. The most scrumptious 5 little bites of melon ever!
CONS:
- it’s hard and hot work to do by myself, and increasingly difficult with my tender back and knees;
- the persistence of weeds, diseases, pests, bad weather, etc. seem to be increasing in proportion to the height of the surrounding shade trees;
- as righteous and selfless as I profess to be about gardening, I do regress to a grumble of green-envy when some newbie brags about their incredible beginner's luck;
- gardening is hardly cost effective if the object was simply to grow our own to pinch pennies at the store—no one would fault me for saving my time and money, quitting the garden, and just getting better acquainted with a local produce farmer. (I hope you all can do that, by the way. Small family farm agriculture is endangered.)
The way I see it, the pros and cons balance out. The hard, hot work is offset by its value to my soul. Well, shoot, never mind the pro and con list; predictably and inevitably, I am soon to get going on this year’s garden.
I’ve received some advice from loved ones: “Scale it back. Take it easy. Let someone else do the heavy lifting.” They think I look tired, frustrated. I may be, but I will ask them to read and reread the above paragraphs for my answer. You’ll have to pry off my cold dead fingers! The 2nd Amendment gives me the right to bear shovels and hoes! Ask not what I can do for my country besides gardening, my fellow Americans.
One final thought. I need to speak directly to a friend who asked if it would be OK to come over and pick my brain about getting her new garden established. “Oh dear,” I said to myself. Apparently, my years of gardening, plus my reputation as a dagnabbit know-it-all, make it seem like I’m a reliable resource. Pardon me while I blush and squirm in my chair. Honestly, dear friend, I think you have me confused with someone who actually is a reliable resource!
This is my “lower 40.” See the little dapples of sun?
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I suppose fir needles are not a viable vegetable....maybe.
Here's an lol. In my front (very small garden) I have a tall container that was stripped of all plants last fall. Yet, there are very little sprouts coming up, I watch them, sometimes 2-3 a day to make sure they are coming up. Crazy, yet rewarding! Now my veggie garden consists of one planter of thyme, rosemary, parsley and chives. Perhaps a song is in order!