The Gardening Bond

gardening The loon is back on Moon Lake. The snow is quickly receding. Soon, Hauser’s will be opening for their annual perennial barn sale. Spring is here. With that, comes the joy of planning and planting this year’s garden. I’m aiming for low maintenance this year. In part, because I hope to spend lots of time gardening with Jake. Last month, an essay I wrote about Jake and I gardening ran in Northern Gardener. I’m a huge fan of this magazine so I was pretty honored they ran my essay about like on Moon Lake. And today, I want to share it with you.

Gardening Bond

In theory, I love gardening. In actuality, at the height of muggy, mosquito-infested evenings here not too far from Lake Superior, where the weeds outnumber my harvest three-to-one, I sometimes find myself hunched over, silently cursing about putting myself through this misery.

Most years, the first glimpse of goldenrod yellow crocuses poking through the last remnants of dirty snow inspires me to plan, plant and harvest yet another year’s worth of bountiful blossoms and hardy vegetables. I am an enthusiastic gardener while the snow is melting and as the first crops green up. As the weather warms and my excitement fades ever so slightly, little treasures from the garden keep me coming back for more. There is that first, sweet crunch of a sugar snap pea. My senses awaken as the calm scent of fresh mint clashes with the intense garlic smell coming from freshly cut garlic scapes. Nearby, tiger lilies and hens and chicks multiply before my eyes, while hollyhocks and lupines shoot out luscious shades of purple that Crayola can only dream of re-creating. These are the gardening moments I live for.

Despite this beauty, as the summer lengthens, I find myself easily dismissing each of Mother Nature’s countless miracles as I swat the mosquitos and yank the weeds that aggressively choke out my carrots and overpower my asparagus. It is a constant love-hate battle.

Last year was no exception. Except that it was. I’m a new mom. In a heightened hormonal, sleep-deprived, angstridden world of motherhood, the burden of gardening weighed me down. In an attempt to manage expectations, I planned, planted and harvested substantially less. I looked away as the weeds dominated the empty spaces. As summer progressed, I found myself stealing early morning moments to do what little I could to keep the garden going. Those snippets of solitude energized me in a way I didn’t expect. It reminded me why I garden in the first place. It made me want to do more. And then the raspberries ripened. I tended to keep my son away from the garden in part because of his love for shredding, yanking and destroying anything in his path coupled with the random spots of poison ivy that seem to find their way within my garden fence annually. But, on a bright sunny day in early July, I noticed the first radiant red berries popping out of my raspberry plants. It was time to make an introduction.

I carefully carried my son inside the garden walls, checking for bees along the way because that’s what paranoid mothers concerned about allergies do. We approached the overgrown row of plants and, as I moved to lead Jake’s hand to pick that first ripened raspberry of summer, he had already grabbed it. A burst of red left him giggling as I watched yet another outfit get instantly stained beyond repair.

I tried again. This time, with my help, he guided the berry from plant to mouth. Jake’s eyes grew big as he discovered the sweet, delicate flavor of a freshly picked berry that no grocery store brand can replicate. He instantly wanted another. And another. This scene was played out time and time again throughout our summer. A season of firsts—first sugar snap pea, purple bean, crunchy cucumber, mouthwatering tomato and countless others.

With each harvest, a new memory for mother and son and a new reason to garden. By summer’s end, even the buzzing of mosquitos could not drown this newly discovered bond. For now, love wins again.

I’m Dreaming of a Green Christmas…

claregreenhouseLast January I had the pleasure of spending an afternoon with my good friend Clare Hintz of Elsewhere Farm. While I always enjoy hanging with her, this encounter was particularly special because I was drilling her about her year-round greenhouse for Northern Gardener Magazine.

For years, Clare has inspired me with her passion for local food production. She is brilliant, funny and the hardest working woman I’ve ever met. Conversations with her often result in me imagining abandoning my small lake lot for a spacious hobby farm in the woods where I can let my Little House on the Prairie dreams of collecting chicken eggs and wildflowers in the wind come true. The only difference, I don’t actually want to do the work. Clare does. And, she does so everyday through her efforts as a farmer, PhD student and all-around awesome friend.clarehintzgarden

The article came out this November. I’m attaching a pdf of the piece here for any northern gardener that has the desire and drive to create her own winter greenhouse oasis. In the meantime, I think I’ll reread the Little House series, buy some locally laid eggs and perhaps plant a few microgreens in my windowsill. Realistically, that’s what this struggling mama can muster up in terms of farming.

claregarden2 This year, winter hit extra early. I already find myself feeling vitamin D deprived and dreaming of warm summer nights. Instead, I’ll have to make due this winter crashing Clare’s greenhouse oasis in the wonderful Herbster community. As we enter this season of giving, I’m just so happy to have folks that have found their true passion in life a part of my life. It makes me genuinely happy and inspires me to keep pursuing my passion in life… even if it isn’t abandoning life on Moon Lake.

PS We’re soon to be proud landowners in Cable. Turns out we won a land auction last month after the person who outbid us discovered he couldn’t in fact afford to outbid us. Pretty excited to be adding land in the southern part of Bayfield County to our mix!