From a distance and the safety of a patio chair, I cheered on Housemate as he planned his 2023 backyard garden and flowerbed enhancements.
I listened intently as he described in detail what rows on his graph paper would turn into tomatoes, potatoes, beans, peas, carrots and there was even a space for zucchini and cucumber plants. The four stand-up garden boxes would also contain fruit and vegetables.
As he came home with bag after bag of soil and fertilizer, followed by packages of seeds and plants already growing, just waiting to be put into the waiting soil where they would be nurtured to production, I wondered at his spring-time ambition.
Even the dwarf apple tree that wouldn’t fit into my vehicle and had to be delivered, was of interest, and I diligently registered the kind of care it would require to produce an apple or two not this year but perhaps the next.
I was happy to lend armchair encouragement and extended best wishes for a bountiful harvest, despite what I expected would be horrific water bills at the end of the season. I was allowed to use my stand-up box from last year to plant petunias and a row of sweet peas that would climb up and over the fence. I was also given two pots for nasturtiums. With those I was content.
As the seeds and plants went into the ground, the weather warmed and the tomatoes and potatoes began reaching for the sky. Soon the tomatoes contained in wire cones took over more space than the plan showed and the cucumber plant was lost to the more determined zucchini. Other elements of the garden prospered as well and I could see an impressive harvest in Housemate’s future.
But then the plan was hatched: he and a friend would go off for two weeks into points in Northern British Columbia and across into Alaska where they were drawn by mines, spawning salmon and bears eating those salmon. It became evident this was a “boys only” trip and hence the lack of an invitation for their loving spouses to go along.
At first I was skeptical of such a journey but I caught on to their excitement and also to the fact I would have 14 days in which I could do exactly what I felt like doing, and when, or not at all. Hmmmm. A boys’ holiday suddenly seemed like a good idea.
Now wait just a minute, I suddenly thought: who will look after the garden, the weeding, the watering, the harvesting? Housemate smiled and in his wisdom, told me what I should be doing, when and how much. Particular attention was to be paid to the apple tree. It required five gallons of water every Sunday evening. And the water was to be poured slowly so it would run down into the root system rather than spewing all over the lawn. I don’t salute well, but the salute I gave him said more than any words I could have produced.
So off they went to adventures unknown, leaving me standing in the driveway, waving goodbye and at the same time, eyeing the flowers and lawn that would need my attention.
My chores were lightened indeed when the next morning I received a text from the “kid at camp” who proclaimed he couldn’t find his socks, the very same socks right there in the zippered compartment where I had showed him before the trip began.
I developed a system that meant up and out early to beat the heat of the day. Pick the beans and tomatoes, deadhead the flowers, sample the blackberries and apply water for the length of time that had been recommended.
Because I couldn’t defeat the water hose attachment, I left it for the garden and I carried the other required water. Two cranberry juice containers with holes in the lids make excellent watering cans and are not too heavy for arthritic hands.
I shared beans and tomatoes with friends and neighbours and sent photos to Housemate so he would know I was dedicated to my summer job.
The travellers eventually returned home a few days early which meant I didn’t accomplish as much as I had hoped in the house, but that darn garden looked pretty happy, if I do say so myself.
After Housemate unloaded his luggage and his friend left for home, he said a brief hello, went to check on his garden and then to his office to download 700 or so photos of his trip.
I know he was thinking: “she did a great job.”
“Yes I did,” this summer labourer thought to herself, also thinking, “It will be nice to have him home, in his garden, where be belongs.
Joyce Walter can be reached at ronjoy@sasktel.net
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.
