Promises

The day I was born my mother was planting peas. No, she didn’t deliver me in a pea patch, but she might as well have. I lose my head every spring when I wander into my local nursery to check out the seed racks. I am normally thrifty, clear-headed, focused, and sensible, but when I start circling those racks of little packages with their lively, colored illustrations, I go into a trance. You could come rushing up to me and exclaim, “I think someone is stealing your car!” and I would say, “Uh huh….did you see these new White Night Hybrid Eggplants? Aren’t they absolutely elegant?”

I don’t believe in planting annuals, but every single flower seed packet was reaching for my hand when I ventured into the nursery early this spring–blues and reds, pinks and yellows. And veggies–green peas of all kinds and a gazillion kinds of squash, yellows and greens.

Each one of those packets held the promise of a delicious or beautiful harvest.

Toshiba Digital Camera

To be honest, seeds are not even that satisfying to plant. You work to prepare and lay out your planting area, bend and sprinkle the seeds, cover them up, and the beds look the same as when you started. It’s not like weeding, where you immediately see the results of your work.

It’s in the promise of those package pictures.

My mother, when I was about 15 years old, gave me a garden plot to plant one spring, and suggested I design a flower garden. It was at one end of her vegetable garden, quite a large area. For some inexplicable reason, I chose to plant the whole thing in different varieties of delphiniums. Whites, blues, lavendars, and all the different blends of those colors–several different packets of seeds. I sketched out a diagram of what variety would go where. The delphiniums did grow and they developed lovely flowers, stately and tall. I think I might have added some stone paths, but I don’t have a clear memory of the results. What sticks in my mind is the plotting and planning ahead of time.

Maybe it was the promise that the planning gave me?

The oldest viable seed that has grown into a plant was a Judean date palm seed, about 2,000 years old. It was recovered from Herod’s palace on Masada in Israel. And the earliest fossil seeds are from West Virginia, about 365 million years old. They are from a fern-like plant. None of these involved colorful seed packets, by the way.

No such seeds in my garden this year. The Potter always likes an experimental vegetable, so he picked out two from colorful little pictures in a seed catalog–cylinder-shaped beets and a “Lime Crisp Cucumber” with light green skin. I’ve never had great success with either beets OR cucumbers, but the package descriptions promise that both will be spectacular. I was born under the promise of peas, so “spectacular” they will be!

 

2 thoughts on “Promises

  1. Growing up with “Mary Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” I was determined to have one.  As a young girl I shared the family summer garden space of tomatoes etc.  But when I was 16 I worked at a nursery and my first official Planned garden was full of delphiniums.   I love your stories. XoM

    Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPad

    • What fun to know this about you, Mary! So both you and Kris have something for delphiniums–unless you got sick to death of them at that age! And I think you still garden, too….

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