I have attended several groundbreaking ceremonies for building projects. I have even been one of the people behind one of those gilded shovels a couple of times. But when I break ground for our garden each year, I like to be alone.
Being alone allows me to savor the experience. I like smelling the fresh, earthy scent of the soil as the tines of the tiller bring it up to the surface. I like having the time and privacy to reflect on the fact that by tilling this soil and planting a garden on this little spot of land, where my ancestors have lived and died for 200 years, I am following a strong family tradition. My father always had a garden, and his father always had a garden, and I imagine, his father did as well. I like thinking that somewhere my father is smiling.
“My father always had a garden, and his father always had a garden, and I imagine, his father did as well. I like thinking that somewhere my father is smiling.” – Dennis Chastain
Solitude affords me the luxury of reflecting on the bounty that my efforts on this little plot of land will produce in the coming months. I planted several spindly tomato plants at the ground-breaking. By the Fourth of July, Lord willing, there will be big, red, vine-ripened tomatoes hanging on the branches of these little fledgling plants. There will be buckets of bright yellow squash for my wife, Jane’s, succulent squash casserole and her lightly breaded fried squash. The squash will be so plentiful that I will need to pick it every day, or it will grow to gigantic proportions virtually overnight and get tossed in the compost pile.
I only plant two hills of cucumbers, but they produce a steady supply of fresh cucumber slices for ham sandwiches, or as a side dish for a summer supper of wild hog pork roast, squash casserole, garden fresh green beans and “new” potatoes, cornbread, spring onions, and maybe some steamed okra.
I’ll be the first to admit that a garden requires a lot of work. I plant in beds, so the first thing I have to do is scalp the beds with my string trimmer so the weeds won’t bunch up in the tines and keep the tiller from digging. Then I have to rake out the roots and rocks, dirt clods and clumps of weeds and their roots. Next, I use my V-shaped garden hoe to make the furrows, followed by a sprinkling of 5-10-10 fertilizer alongside the furrows. Then the seeds must be carefully dropped in the furrows and covered up with a shallow layer of soil. The tomatoes, squash and cucumbers will need watering throughout the growing season, and when the season ends, everything has to be pulled up and hauled to the compost bin.
It’s hard work, but there is something to be said for physical exercise. Like many folks these days, I spend a lot of time sitting at a desk in front of a computer screen. We are designed to do vigorous physical work, but we are not designed to do computer work.
When we do a lot of physical work, we get tired. When we spend too much time working on a computer, we get weary. Physical exercise is the antidote for weariness.
Dennis Chastain is a Pickens County naturalist, historian and former tour guide. He has been writing feature articles for South Carolina Wildlife magazine and other outdoor publications since 1989.
