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Aug 14, 2011 7:33 PM CST
|Grandmother had small farm, spent summers with her. All other relatives city folk, and I never had any where to grow things myself until about seven years ago (I'm 54 now). So I remember helping some with hoeing and picking. Remember canning, and the cows and the pigs. A horse once. BI remember the flowers she always had. But never picked up practicalities, so been learning as I go. Does that count as first generation?
This, too, shall pass.
Aug 15, 2011 6:46 AM CST
|I think in that case you can choose.|
Aug 15, 2011 8:11 PM CST
|I'm also one-and-a-half. Mom grew a few vegetables, some annual flowers most years, and nursed a few rose bushes.
But she was possesive of her garden!
I got to dig up the sod originally, and turn the soil every year. I mowed, raked leaves and managed the compost heap. She knew how she wanted things done, and wanted to do them herself. Now, I understand that completely: my garden is MINE!
Dad's role was to come home from work late, receive his martini, and stroll down the lawn towards the vegetable garden, surveying it grandly.
Division of labor. To this day, I would rather cultivate the soil and a compost heap than cultivate flowers or vegetables. But you need an excuse to play with compost and soil, and so I grow things! It took a year or three, but now I care about some flowers and have ambitions to grow many more.
So I learned from books and the Internet and the best teacher of all: trial and error.
I imagine that (eventually) I may know more than someone who learned how to do things RIGHT at a young age. I know lots and lots and LOTS of ways to do things WRONG.
Just because it ISN'T complicated doesn't mean I can't MAKE it complicated!
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Aug 16, 2011 12:35 PM CST
|Rick, my experience is similar to yours including dad's martini.
My mother was a wonderful gardener and possessive, as you describe. I think that not being able to participate much other than with maintenance, just watching told me "this is what you're supposed to do and this is how you will do it". Memories taken to adulthood and a compelling craving to do it myself.
“Don't give up too quickly"... unknown, I heard it somewhere.
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