Gardening Up North

For over 20 years, I have battled sand, drought, cold, bugs and weeds to grow a vegetable garden. Some years, when the spring rains never came, the deer ate all the tender new shoots or the first frost came in August, I vowed to never grow a garden again. Other years, when the potato bugs chewed the plants up in a matter of hours, or the tomato worms were as big as my hand, I swore the next year I was going to shop at the farmer's markets instead of trying to grow my own.

But not many things smell as good as fresh dirt, and each year it calls to me. It holds the promise of another spring, another growing season, another chance. The garden nurtures something in me. From the seed catalogs that arrive in the dead of winter just when I need to see a burst of color, to the flats of seedlings I sprout indoors in the early spring, to the first warm afternoon I can finally get outside and see what's there, it's like being with an old friend. From April through September, I can count on having dirty and broken nails, sore knees and a stiff back. But the rewards are great.

I look forward to the first peas off the vine, so sweet they are often eaten before we get them to the kitchen. And then there's the early lettuce, spinach, onions, all reminders of what fresh vegetables are really supposed to look and taste like. As summer beckons, the garden transforms. Huge squash and pumpkin vines spill out from all sides, tomato and pepper plants shoot upwards and bear fruit that will turn in to homemade salsa. Corn and sunflower stalks change from tiny shoots to six feet tall in just a few weeks. We joke each summer about all the different ways we can use zucchini. There are times we can make an entire dinner from what's ready to pick in the garden. That's a feeling only farmers and gardeners know.

In the spring and summmer, I spend my early mornings in the garden, hoe or seeds in hand, stopping to sip my coffee while I work. I have hauled manure - truckloads of it, I have spent an entire afternoon trying to start an old roto-tiller. I have rushed home on a cold night to cover tender plants against a late spring frost. I have bought books on organic gardening and have paid attention to planting the radishes with the lettuce and keeping the potatoes away from the sunflowers. I plant flowers and herbs around and in between rows to repel some bugs and encourage others. I have planted by the full moon and during a thunderstorm. I have built a compost bin and manure tea brewer. I was even tilling the garden just days before my son was born in April. My doctor told me that it probably helped me go in to labor!

Growing a garden is a lot like life - you have to work diligently - tending plants, watering, weeding and finally, harvesting...and nothing comes easy. The garden reminds me how growth and change are part of the fabric of life.

In Northern Michigan, we're famous for our sand dunes, cherry trees and unpredictable weather. We can have hot, dry summers, rainy falls and long winters. It can snow in May or October and can be 90 degrees in July. I have gained a renewed respect and admiration for anyone who grows food for a living, and for Mother Nature, who has an agenda all her own.

But, instead of giving up, a few years ago we built a greenhouse and made the realization that gardening is part of my life. It's just something I have to do.