The Garden
The huge garden on my parent’s farm southeast of Remsen, Iowa, was in the north corner of the east side of the big barn on a hog lot long ago abandoned but rich with “aged” manure. Mom put much thought into the garden’s location that would benefit from the morning and south sun; shade from the hot and dry west sun. This was in the mid-1970s.
You name it. We grew it…by the bushel. Did I mention the cantaloupes? None better-hands down…seriously. And the tomatoes-what a crop. How many pints and quarts we canned? I lost count. My stewed tomatoes were facetiously called “screwed” tomatoes by the Wagner kids. They never did warm up to a meal that included them. But the sweet corn was a favorite. Our chest freezer was bursting at the seams.
All of us – me, Mom, Matt, Mark, and Sandy worked in tandem to plant and had fun doing it. We lined up the rows with string. With plenty of shovels for everyone, we dug the “trenches.” Mom handed out the seeds with specific instructions on how far apart to space them. There was absolutely no doubt that the shovel full of manure that went into every hill for tomato plants and cantaloupe seeds helped produce the best tasting fruit and vegetables.
Many mornings, just after sun up, I loaded the kids into the pickup and headed to the farm. Always best for freezing and canning, the dew had to be on the plants when harvested, and the produce processed soon after.
As I recall, not much enthusiasm came from the Wagner kids. Considering their young ages, however, I give them credit for helping and not complaining. You have to know they never passed on a chance to go to the farm. After working a while in the garden, Mom and I did cut them some slack and let them go up to the house to hang out.
Hit by a bad hailstorm, our large and beautiful cabbages didn’t fare so well. We had high hopes for sauerkraut that year.
The last crop out of the ground, usually early November, was carrots…trash bags full. Thank goodness they stored well. Our share of the carrots ended up in the vintage frig in our garage – unplugged and used for storage. Much to my surprise they were frozen hard as a rock when I checked on them later…that was OK…they cooked up fine and stayed frozen in the fridge until we used the last of them.
Sadly, the gardening came to an end when Mom, in the garden by herself, left with produce in one hand and a sharp knife in the other. She slipped in the damp grass on the approach a few feet from the driveway cutting her hand rather badly.
For many years afterwards we talked about our garden, how the five of us worked together and had the satisfaction of knowing our efforts produced the best garden ever! I wish I had a picture.
We do have photos with Marvel with her wounded hand.
(Photos taken at Elmer & Marvel’s 9/13/75 anniversary celebration.)
Sandy’s Garden Memories (Sandy is the author’s daughter and one of the Wagner Kids who worked the garden):
Grandma always wore a dress when we gardened. Our walk to the garden behind the barn was always a feeling of meandering. We were never in a hurry. The act of weeding and picking produce was very meditative, just like Grandma.
I will never forget the ENDLESS supply of stewed tomatoes Mom had canned and stored in the cellar. My brothers and I called them ‘screwed tomatoes’ and would groan when we saw a jar on the counter (but they really did taste good, Mom…we just got sick of them and enjoyed saying ‘screwed tomatoes’).
It was really pretty in the garden. Once we got there, it was wide open space with beautiful sunsets and the fields' backdrop. It didn’t feel like work and we always waited until the temps were cooler.
I would have worked in the garden any day if given a choice over bean walking!