When the time arrives to plant potatoes, tomatoes, beans, and cabbage that first day in the garden took on a kind of festive feel to it. The family all would come to the garden and help. Dad would start early in the day disking the ground so that it would be of a much finer texture and much easier to work with. I know most every farm had a push plow to use in their gardens but I seem to recall that a hoe was in use very much more and every year along the way the push plow was left more over by the fence and the hoe seemed to become more of a permanent item in our hands. It also seemed to me that the first day was a very long one as there was very much that needed to be placed in the earth so it could begin growing and increasing our hopes for some good eating.
With dad was also my mom and no garden was begun without her presence that I ever recall. Later in life, I learned that my mom’s parents and her six other siblings grew up raising huge gardens as they raised produce to sell in town. When I thought about that, I could only think they raised much more than I could ever have imagined and we raised a good-sized garden on our own. However, ours would just have to paled in comparison to what the Benton family grew all those many years before. So when it came to making garden time dad left it up to my mom to lay out what was going to be planted where and in what oreder they would enter the ground. I still do not really know just why something had to be planted before some other vegetable. It seemed to me that they all needed to be in the ground before they could begin growing. Thing was none of us ever ask mom why. I always figured that if she wanted us to know she would have told us. We all figured it was probably wiser to leave mom to her business and us to following the directions our parents gave us.
Mom gave much attention to the cabbage, tomatoes and pepper plants. She kept them so that access to them would be more frequent than say sugar corn or green beans so they were never beside each other. We always had a large strawberry patch. Twelve foot wide by two hundred twenty-five foot long. Each h year dad would transplant from the existing bed to form a new one for the next year. He said it gave larger yields. Therefore, the new patch would always be on the left or right of the existing. Since dad supervised this, he would get Ben most times to help him since he was old enough to wield a knife and understood how to transplant. With two, they would be done faster but even with two it still took a long while and most of that time was bending.
When the berries were, transplanted dad would unload from the pickup truck an old furrowing plow that had been horse drawn once upon a time but now would be hooked to a tractor. Here again it seemed dad had to guide the plow across the garden behind the tractor while Ben or I drove the tractor. He was laying off furrow rows for the potato patch, which at our garden was a large patch. So for about an hour before planting all of us would grab a knife and cut the potatoes into two or three sections and then they would be the seed potato. I can tell you folks that two hundred pounds of seed potatoes will produce all the potatoes you will ever want to see. (Much more work digging them than planting them.) I think there were at least six rows of potatoes. Maybe more.
As the vegetables were sown, the rows would begin to appear and what had been a good-sized section of barren ground was forming one row at a time into a family’s garden. When it was items such as tomato plants mom placed a recycled tin can with the bottom cut out around a plant so that the cut or grub worms couldn’t get to the roots. Since I was the youngest, I wanted to help as much as I could but really did not understand just why we raised so much stuff. In the baby boomer era if you wanted to cook something you could not go to the store and buy a form of it frozen or instant. No if you wanted it, you had to grow it. When a garden was planted it was a sight to stand back and admire as all you had been working at sure did look nice and neat and in straight rows. How nice a garden looked was just part of the job and it I guess was as important as the product.
After the days of my sister, brother and I were growing up mom and dad moved to the edge of Bethel. They still raised a good-sized garden but as they aged, the garden shrank. In addition, more could be bought from the store and of course, we liked it fast also. After I married, my wife and I raised some gardens and they were good gardens. Again not the size of the ones on the farm but we were proud of them. Since then my son and daughter have both tried their hands at gardening and both have produced with success. These days I put out a very small patch so I can raise a tomato and green beans. This seems to keep the dirt in my shoes so to say. I like that I have in a way passed along wanting to garden a bit. To feel the Earth and eat something that you grew is a great feeling that only can be explained when you raise it. So maybe you should try it.
Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories about this youth and other topics. If you would like to read more of his stories, he has two books out on the market and you can reach Rick at houser734@yahoo.com. Or just write to him at P.O. Box 213 Bethel, Ohio.
Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories about his youth and other topics. If you are interested in reading more of his stories they can be found in his books ‘There are Places to Remember” and’ Memories ARE from the Heart.” He may be reached at houser734@yahoo.com or mail to P.O. Box 213 Bethel, Ohio 45106.