by Kristina Brandt

Created on: February 20, 2010

When I was about six years old, before my family and I moved, before I went off to college, and before getting a job was the most important thing in my life, one of the most exciting things I had to look forward to was helping my dad take care of his vegetable garden.

            Every spring we would go shopping for seeds and supplies. He would let me pick what we would grow that year and told me why we couldn’t grow certain things in our yard due to it not being warm enough or cold enough. After he worked the soil and got everything ready, we would plant the seeds together, making sure the holes were deep enough and had the right amount of space between each one.

I remember him telling me the carrots had to be at least three inches apart from each other and showed me with his hand how to measure it. For other vegetables, he would make an indent with his finger in the dirt and I would take my little shovel and dig the hole. My dad would give me the seeds to put in each hole and always reminded me that when I filled the hole back up, I shouldn’t pack the soil too tightly or the seeds wouldn’t be able to grow properly. We would work side by side in the dirt, no gloves on, and go through the entire garden that way.

The garden itself was a wonder. When my parents moved to that house, about two years before I was born, the whole backyard was just grass. Everything I saw as a child had been made from scratch. It was a garden you could take a walk in. There were planks of wood that defined where the paths were, creating a boxy figure “8”. You could walk in, turn left, and there would be lettuce and cabbage on the left with eggplant and squash on the right. A little further on you could either continue going straight towards the red and green peppers and around the corner to the beets and radishes or turn right and go under an archway of string beans and peas. They weaved in and out of this ladder that went from one side of the path, up over your head, and down to the other side of the path. That would lead to the carrots, and if you turned left you would see regular tomatoes and cherry tomatoes. If you turned to the right, you’d pass the eggplant and squash again and could make your way out of the garden.

Once everything was planted I would go out every so often just to walk around and check on everything. My dad would tell me what to look for so I knew when each vegetable

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