Why am I starting a gardening blog since there are so many out there, and gardening season is in full swing here in central Indiana? I have been a gardener since go-go boots and Apollo astronauts were cool, and I think I might have my own angle on the joys of gardening. I live in a small west central town in Indiana, where tornado sirens rang out last night, accompanied by 2 1/2 " of rain, which is why I'm sitting in the comfort of my bugless kitchen, pounding my keyboard instead of hauling weeds out of my garden.
I come from a long line of gardeners, my earliest influences being my mother, and my English grandfather, who always had new potatoes and fresh peas with mint straight from the garden when we went to visit across the pond. He lived in a row house, which meant he had a long narrow lot behind his home, which he filled with any number of veggies. His wife, my sweet Nana, worked the fields in Norfolk during my mother's childhood, and I've heard many stories about her picking strawberries for "chits" which were turned in for pay later. I often wonder what she would think of me stopping for rest, and having a soda, while she would have worked her knuckles raw to feed her family during the war and after. I have lavender and flax in my gardens to remember them both. Flax for the fields grown in England during the war to replace the cotton they could no longer get shipped to them.
My grandmother worked in flax fields. Flax was used to make soldier's uniforms, tents, and any number of other things that needed a sturdy cloth. .
And lavender? East Anglia, that bulgy bit of England on the eastern side of the island, has fields and fields of lavender. One of my favorite places to visit there was a lavender mill, at Heacham, where I saw every variety in every size, shape, and color of lavender. Serious olfactory overload!
I started out with a small garden next to the backdoor at our 1950's ranch in Greenwood. I always had petunias and other pretty flowers blooming, and it was probably a bit weedy, but I enjoyed it immensely. My sister had the garden patch on the other side of the door, and I'm thinking nothing grew there. She was too busy learning to sew any manner of clothing, and eventually stitched both our wedding gowns.
I now live in a rambling 1880's midwestern farmhouse with 3 acres on the edge of town.
My front gardens include a shady spot, filled with bleeding heart, squirrel corn, hosta, bloodroot, celadine poppy, and astilbe.
I have a fence along the sidewalk, just far enough back that I hope my neighbors won't walk their dogs through my garden.
There is a long, straight walkway from the sidewalk to the front door. It's made of old-fashioned concrete, sturdy, and older than me, that will probably outlast me and many Indiana winters. It deserved its own garden, full of daylilies, daisies, flax, several ground covers, strawberries, iris, hellebore, and lots of other lovelies.
Come by in the next couple weeks to see all the daylilies which will be bursting out into the summer sunshine! I could be coaxed into laying down my trowel and sittin' for a spell with a cold glass of something,,,
Dirt UP!!
Dianne
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