The problem with working as a gardener with other gardeners is that each gardener has their individual way of gardening born of years of personal gardening experiences in order to achieve, intrinsically, the same results e.g flamboyant cosmos, rampant rhubarb and robust parsnips. This is a fact. And it’s okay if the gardeners all accept these different ways of working and can play nicely together, but not so if heels of wellies are dug in and gardening gloves are slapped at faces, thus leading to trowels being drawn at dawn.
Of course, the lovely thing about having one’s own garden, one’s own plot of land entrusted to one to be careful guardian thereof by Mother Nature, is that one can garden it how one bloody well likes, and one can even mutter about the odd gardening habits of other gardeners whilst doing so, because 1) they won’t hear the mutterings and 2) if they do hear, one has the satisfaction of being able to shout, ‘Get orfff my land, you steaming idiot!’ and, if one feels inclined, fire a warning shot across their bows with one’s catapult that one uses to expel snails and slugs from one’s vegetable patch.
Amongst a group of gardeners, though, I find it better to stay quiet and tow the popular line. I don’t like confrontation, and to be honest, does it really matter in the Grand Scheme of the World and all that’s in it how you choose to plant your beetroot? No, it does not. It’s certainly not worth a bout of quarrels and sulks. I can go home safe in the knowledge that I can plant beetroot my way without having to contend with criticism, tutting and eye rolling.
I was thinking today that my non-confrontational approach to gardening puts me safely in the group of people known as ‘a soft touch.’ And that’s okay because I’d rather be a soft touch than a cold, flint-eyed biatch. I’ve been growing stuff for the garden since I was 10 years old. I like to think I know vaguely what I’m doing. I’ve had successes, I’ve had failures. I know it’s not worth growing aubergines. I know to NEVER plant more than 4 courgette plants in a season. I also know that, when faced with a tray of seedlings ready for potting on, I’m lacking in the ruthless gardener’s habit known as ‘thinning out’ a.k.a selecting the largest specimens for potting on and consigning the remaining runts of the litter, so to speak, to the compost heap. Soft touch, you see.
My reasoning is that if a teeny tiny little seed has invested the energy to grow, even if it hasn’t grown as big and leafy as its seed tray friends, it still deserves a chance at being potted on. Just because it might be a weakling by comparison, even if it has only one set of leaves instead of two, it still deserves that chance. Because without giving it that chance, you never know what it could achieve.
And that, dear reader, is why I have 107 baby Crystal Mix pansy plants currently sitting in my greenhouse. Fingers crossed, by late Summer, they will look something like this…
Comments
KJ