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Gardening With Nana

I was on the back patio today watering hanging baskets and potted plants with my ninety-four year old grandmother. Talking of the challenge of keeping the plants healthy and growing in the record breaking heat. Nana asked if I remembered helping to plant her vegetable garden in Massachusetts wearing winter coats and gloves! ...
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It was St. Patrick's Day. I had just finished watching the St Patty's Day parade on the television and thinking this cold wet morning would be a good time to start one of the books I had brought home from the library the day before.

"Come on girl, no sitting around now, we have a garden to plant."
Nana stood before me with a scarf wrapped around her head, winter coat snuggly buttoned, pulling on gloves and talking about planting the garden? It would be a good joke considering the patches of snow still on the ground except Nana never joked about her garden!

"Get a move on and don't forget your hat and gloves."

Handing me a basket filled with her "tools of the trade" we went out the back door into the cold, crisp March air. The air stung my cheeks and brought tears to my eyes. Nana began whistling as she stopped briefly to grab a second basket from the basement stairs. Handing me a hoe and a plastic bag to kneel on, we went to work.
From my basket Nana selected small wooden dowels and a roll of twine. She quickly tied one end of the twine to a small dowel and began walking to the far side of the garden. Several minutes of maneuvering, first to the left, then the right, then left just a bit more, and the twine was tied to a second dowel and neatly snipped with a pair of scissors. Once we both pressed the dowels into the ground, the real work began.

Using the tightly stretched twine to mark her first row, Nana quickly drew the hoe in short strokes along the ground. Satisfied that the row was straight and clearly marked, she instructed me to keep using the hoe to dig the small trench line a couple inches deeper. While I was doing that Nana reached into the basket, retrieved from the basement, and brought out several packets of seed. The first packets contained Early June peas. After more instructions from Nana, I knelt on a black plastic bag to protect my knees from the cold wet ground. One at a time, I dropped the seeds in, two finger widths apart, into the furrowed ground. I thought this cold damp ground was wet enough already but a water
can stood nearby to water this row as soon as it was completed.

After completing two more

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