The Constant Gardener

Finn got a watering can.  We demonstrated just once now he struts about our tiny back porch wielding his little yellow duck chattering to the flowers as he soaks and tests the soil with his chubby thumb.   Each morning, afternoon and evening he presses his face to the glass door grunting to get to work.   We have some concerns that he inherited his Aunt Colleen’s COWD (Chronic Over-Watering Disease) .

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Nevertheless, we are pleased that Finn enjoys porch-scaping.  Little does he know how much watering, raking, and mowing, we have in store for him at The Farm. 

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It is not really a farm, but it used to be.  This is the view I hope to have from my kitchen window someday.  It makes me want to bake an apple pie and cool it on the sill.

In the fall of ’05, the Captain, Grandfather and my brother planted 67 trees along both side of the property.   Muddy,  sweaty,  nasty business,  but there is something really cute about my guy in work-boots and jeans.   I was pregnant so I supervised and brought lunch.   Grandfather does not let me participate in projects much anyway since a wood stacking incident many years ago.   I followed his instructions exactly,  nevertheless,  the pile tottered or teetered (take your pick) over landing on a plethora of lawncare equipment in his fully-stocked garage.   What they don’t realize that perhaps it was all part of my grand plan to extricate myself from manual labor on a permanent basis.    

In the summer of ’06, the Captain battled an infestation of caterpillars munching their way down our hill attacking our precious charges.   Then he cleared the field with a brush hog just so I could throw a party.   We pitched a tent and had an old-school kegger just like high-school minus the police raid.   Our friends and family admired the trees which had been lovingly wrapped and staked to protect them from the deer and the wind on the hill. 

Everytime we are in the area,  we drive by and dream a little more.    This fall we pretended to be holding mugs of coffee on the porch swing while taking in the brilliant oranges, reds and yellows.    In the winter,  we scouted the best location for our kids to sled (and not strike any trees) and then warm their red, drippy noses with hot chocolate infront of our massive stone fireplace.       

Sometimes your dreams have set backs.  The Captain was disappointed to find that almost half his trees did not make it this winter.   All that work,  love and care.  It is a shame.  It is not a blight since it affected all different types of trees.  We have a forester coming out to take a look.   This weekend the Captain and Grandfather will pull out some trees to examine the roots.   If they smell bad,  they rotted, which would mean that we have drainage problem… alas COWD strikes again. 

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One Response to “The Constant Gardener”

  1. nutmeg Says:

    That view! Can we all come live with you? We water good too!

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