by Jaimi Hemmerich

Created on: August 14, 2009   Last Updated: October 23, 2009

As I reached adulthood, having a garden wasn't about having a hobby or something to do for leisure. Although partially, it wasn't about providing my family with nutritious, home-grown fruits and vegetables either - for me, it has been and still is a way to connect with my family.

When I was a child, some of my fondest memories are of the family garden we shared at my grandmother and grandfather's house. I can remember spending many summer days on the patio shelling peas, snapping green beans or shucking corn, feeling at home and connected to those that I loved (and loved me) the most.

My job and life have carried me away from my family. Naturally, one spring I decided that I was going to put out a garden in hopes to stifle some of the homesickness that gripped me each year at that time. "This can't be too hard," I thought to myself. Logically, I had helped care for a garden my entire life. Should be like riding a bike, right? Wrong.

The first year I put out a garden, I was very methodical. Early in Februrary, I started all of my plants (veggies and flowers, alike) in my sun room in little peat greenhouses. When it was time, I picked out a supreme spot in the yard - just enough daylight; close enough to irrigation to make it simple; out of the way of common backyard shenanigans. I tilled. I fertilized. I even put up a little, white fence in hopes of keeping the rabbits or any other neighborhood creatures out.

Then came the big day. It was time to plant my precious little startlings in the garden. Everything went downhill from there. During my keen childhood observations, I must have overlooked one tiny little detail: never damage the roots. While transplanting the veggie plants from their little pots to the garden, I was slightly less careful than I should have been. I ended up losing all of my plants, except for two grape tomato plants. Needless to say, my family and I feasted on grape tomatoes all season long....and none of us really care too much for them to this day.

Since this fateful first journey down the gardening path, I have had many other trials and tribulations. The next year, I planted a beautiful pumpkin patch. I was so excited to see my first pumpkin ripened to maturity that I promptly picked it and proceeded to can it. While I was canning my prized pumpkin (for a nice Thanksgiving pie or two), my well-meaning significant other pulled all of the remaining vines. Although, he meant to help (he was under the assumption that the vines only yielded one pumpkin), I was less than pleased. As you might imagine, he slept on the couch that evening.

I am proud to say that through all of these obstacles, I never lost sight of my intentions. I persevered, and at this very moment, I have a beautiful, lush garden in my back yard full of juicy tomatoes of all sizes and variety (including my prized Mr. Stripey Heirloom), plump peppers and sleek cucumbers. My two sons can now experience some of the same summer joys that I did as a child and create lasting memories of their own. Isn't it funny what some soil, seeds and determination can do?

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