Rick, leaving the chili in the vodka for 2 weeks was a bit of overkill. I'd do it for 3 or 4 days and it is just right. Yours must have really been hot!

I had to dilute it a LOT.

Talking about this has made me think I need another batch.

Bonehead said:What are CO days?

Obviously I haven't been on this thread for awhile or I would have answered @Bonehead.
My CO days refers to when I lived in Colorado. Sorry for any confusion.

Ha ha - duh! I was trying to fit that into all sorts of two word phrases, most non-sensical.

RickCorey said:When I was a kid, the only garden chores they trusted me to do were to turn leaves under in fall and fork them up again in spring, mow the lawn, and "manage" the compost heap when we didn't just burn all the leaves.

Composting, building new beds and cultivating the soil are still my favorite parts!

Well, that plus collecting and trading seeds. But that is probably driven by advanced, congenital O. Seed D..

I should admit the 40-year period between turning the soil in my mother's garden, and now, when I have access to my own yard and can have my own garden.

During part of the 1980s, living in an apartment, I grew a few plants indoors under shop lights and a few small halogen lights. I was really fond of those plants ... and now they are legal in some states, under some circumstances.

That kept my interest in growing plants keen, while I had no outdoor garden at all.

Now that I have access to SOIL and can make COMPOST, my cup runneth over. But I don't grow anything dubious, now.

I was living in Potsdam, NY, when I was 2 and 3 years old. An old patch of raspberry colored peonies grew in the front yard of our little rented house. When they bloomed I thought I had gone to heaven. My Mom said I could pick them when they were all in full bloom - the next time. Well, that didn't happen until June 21st, 1954, the day my sister was born; I picked some flowers and I got spanked by my Dad . . . The old folks who lived next door to us has a huge Victorian house with a huge lawn and flowerbeds flanking the whole length of that lawn; I just loved looking at (and picking) those beautiful flowers. The neighbors gave me a coffee can planted with a few tulip bulbs in the Spring of 1955; my Dad had just graduated from Clarkson College of Engineering that June and we were moving to California - well, I had to give up those tulips before they could even bloom . . . In California we bought a little concrete block house in Woodland Hills - a beautiful green valley, except we lived on the barren, wind-swept, desert road of Buena Ventura Street -- nothing grew in our yard. I lusted after the flowers that grew in yards on other streets . . . One day a neighbor gave me few cuttings of vining geraniums; I planted them in the dry strip that ran along our driveway with the concrete block retaining wall; they took off and completely covered that ugly wall; it was beautiful, but then we moved to New Mexico to a rental unit with grass and a chain link fence. It was my job to hand cut the grass that grew along the fence line . . . not fun at all, but I still did admire the flowers that bloomed in other peoples' yards . . . When I realized that folks frequently moved away from their rental units, I decided to be ready with my wagon and spoon to dig up their plants and tow them home - of course, the timing was never right, so the plants usually died . . . A few years later we were living in a small, 2nd floor apartment in NJ with a common lawn area, but no garden area. I saved the flowering lilies from church that Spring and planted them beneath our kitchen window which was facing the rear parking area of the complex; I attached a garden hose to the kitchen sink in order to water them down there at ground level. Well, they were just getting ready to bloom in mid August when the groundskeeper came by and mowed them all down. Finally, I got married, moved to Colorado, bought a new house with the largest lot in the neighborhood; wow; I was going to have a real garden, and I was never, ever going to move away. Well, the whole lot was composed of alkaline, salty, blow sand and produced lots of Russian thistle. After battling the weeds for 3 or 4 years I was able to plant things: trees, shrubs, flowers, vegetables. Well, most of the junipers grew all right; the fruit trees died of fire blight, canker, and borers, the vegetables were deformed and produced nothing; the Norwegian sweet cherry trees died from deep frost; the 35' blue spruce blew down in the Spring wind; the flowering perennials just disappeared every winter and never came back; but I did manage to grow the most beautiful Kentucky Coffee trees, and two children. Of course, the children have no interest in gardening. This year I hope to see blooming clematis plants which I planted last Summer. So, I am always looking for hearty plants to fill this large yard of 41 years.

I hated gardening when I was a kid. When my family had 'yard work weekends', I begged off and vacuumed the house. It was the nightcrawlers (creepy) and the grass (allergic). My grandmother's garden days were much more fun - they involved trips to the nursery and cactus and violet repotting sessions. Blame it all on my Grandma.

My children each had their own personal gardens to plan, plant and care for. They (my kids) turned out to be great gardeners (but there is no grass at any of our houses).

When I was about 9 we moved from TX to OH, and my dad dug up a space for a vegetable garden. He dug up a tiny space, 4' x 4', for me also, and I planted a pumpkin seed. One day he said to me "you have a pumpkin growing!". My pumpkin only grew to about 6" long, but I loved it. That is what got me started. A couple of years later, I was selling my own pumpkins to the neighbors for Halloween because I grew so many!

What a great story, Christie!

My paternal Grandfather had about 10 acres. In WWII, my Dad and his brother built several houses on it and that left my Granddad with about 2 acres when I was young. He grew a garden there organically.

Every year when we visited, I helped him pick beans and everything. I learned how to handle veggies. I helped Grandma prepare the veggies for meals. Grandma was "Deutch" and knew how to cook. I loved helping.

Don't take this as wrong, but my Mom was French and boiled every vegetable to death. And Dad dumped mountains of synthetic fertilizer on the garden. I hated the family veggies as a teen.

I was in college before I re-learned how to cook vegetables again properly (steamed or stir fried). And I was amazed. So I started to learn about growing them like Grampa did. He was an organic gardener. So I researched that. Found Organic Gardening magazine. I remembered the things he did.

No-tilling, compost piles...

I've been doing the best I could at that for 40 years. I've learned some things Grampa didn't about starting seeds inside under lights. Well, he didn't have those lights. Technology moves on.

BTW, he once told me he remembered the first airplane flights and lived to see us walk on the moon and thought he had a pretty special life. He did.

I don't know half of what he did about gardening. But I'm trying.

If I could go back in time, I would like to see my Dad building those houses on the back acres and asking Grampa questions about his gardening habits. Mostly asking Grampa questions about gardening. And how Gramma made her dumplimgs, BTW.

I have tried to learn what Grampa did in his garden. He might be pleased. I'll never know. But it's the journey that counts.

We always had a garden when I was growing up. I am sure that I didn't properly appreciate it. I remember engaging in long rants about having to pick the 1/2 acre strawberry patch every day. Couldn't face a strawberry for years after. I never wanted to have a garden once I was an adult, although I've always had houseplants.

So why did I start this year? I changed jobs. My previous job in behavioral health was very concrete in terms of being able to complete tasks and measure success as I was in administration. I have shifted to being a case manager. There is nothing tangible about this job. Some days I leave and wonder what I did and whether it will matter. I found myself wanting to do something with tangible results. I started with a few herbs, and now it's completely out of control. And I love it.

LizDTM said:We always had a garden when I was growing up. I am sure that I didn't properly appreciate it. I remember engaging in long rants about having to pick the 1/2 acre strawberry patch every day. Couldn't face a strawberry for years after. I never wanted to have a garden once I was an adult, although I've always had houseplants.

So why did I start this year? I changed jobs. My previous job in behavioral health was very concrete in terms of being able to complete tasks and measure success as I was in administration. I have shifted to being a case manager. There is nothing tangible about this job. Some days I leave and wonder what I did and whether it will matter. I found myself wanting to do something with tangible results. I started with a few herbs, and now it's completely out of control. And I love it.

I have also done both (mental health and case management). I understand exactly what you're saying.

One of the things I used to do with my clients was what I eventually labeled horticultural therapy. Depending on the population, ivy, pothos, and philodendron are good candidates to give to clients (depending on how often you see them, and with permission from the agency, of course) and you track how they care for them. This does several things. It obviously teaches somebody how to care for plants but it also starts a relationship with you and builds trust, consistency, and the opportunity to share things. For some populations (such as developmentally disabled adults living in a care home) this would work much better than with others (such as prisoners). And of course some people don't like to or can't be near plants.

Hello Don - what a nice question - glad you asked.
I was age 6 when I met our neighbors Rena & Bill, organic gardeners who encouraged me by offering a few square feet next to their garden to try my luck. I observed and copied their ways. I learned to eat raw rhubarb, dig a carrot, compost, sit in the shade, water in the morning, observe birds, pick insects off plants, be gentle, gossip about neighbors, eat home made soup, be a perfectionist, and most importantly love gardening. What dear dear people.

I didn't really like gardening when I was younger. And im not sure what actually made me like it, although my mom likes it im sure she had something to do with it.
But now I keep on doing it because it's something to do with the kids (and escape from them every once in a while) !

Jai, your response is interesting. On Monday, I took 20 or so bare root aloes into work, along with some golden pothos cuttings (already with roots), some spider plant babies and some purple heart vine. I've been giving them away to people all week. My residents have all be chronically homeless. Some struggle with mental illness. I have a few that are afraid to commit to something like a plant, and I think it's because they don't have roots themselves yet. It's been an interesting week. There are a lot of potted aloes proudly displayed by their front doors. I'm so happy I took the plants in.

This is my very first post and I thought this question was a good one to start with. I have been gardening in some form or another all my life. My grandparents on both sides had vegetable gardens. We were always helping someone with the gardens. I wish I had a penny for every weed I pulled or chopped out of those gardens. I remember going to my grandmother on my Mom's side and we would stay a week to do the canning. All my Aunts and Cousins would be there. After it was done everyone got to take a share home. Grandma also had flowers all around her house and I loved them so much. She would take me around with her to tend the flowers and tell me what they were and what had to be done to make them grow. I think that was when my love for gardening really started. I know I was young maybe 5 or 6 years old. My parents finally bought a home in a rural area so we had our own garden too. Dad was a tree man so we had all kinds of trees and shrubs growing on our land that he would sell to his customers. It was a lot of work but I loved it all from planting to canning. I get a great sense of accomplishment from working the garden. After I left home I started my own garden and up until a few years ago I kept it going. Now it is just the flower garden. Due to retirement we moved to a subdivision and we have a small yard. I still however cannot keep my hands out of the dirt. I started with a small garden and now I have flowers and bushes all around the front and sides of my house and am working on the back.

One year, as an adult, I was planting my garden, when the 4 yr old next door neighbor came over. I let him plant a row of beans - he loved it. I bet I got him started in gardening.

Welcome the forms GardenGalore! Another lifetime gardener.It is always interesting to hear what got people started.

I've always been fond of nature, even as a toddler. But I always had a bigger interest in animals than plants. Okay I could find a flower beautiful, but more than that...nuh-uh. Not until I HAD to.

When me and my SO started renovating my dad's (now mine) garden 3years ago I thought "Well a garden isn't a garden without plants. Or a good design". So I started looking at pictures of gardens and had a real fondness of modern/minimalistic designs; you know the ones that goes with a sea of grasses. Specifically Pennisetum. So I bought a few plants and bung 'm in the ground. It looked a bit bare so I started researching what else I could grow and I think we all know how it went from there. You see a flower and go "Oooh that's lovely". You envelop yourself more and more with flowers, sun/shade, soil types, propagation, seed sowing....and once that thumb is green, well....it stays green