The Healing Garden

Something Unexpected Grew There

Photo by Europeana on Unsplash

My mom passed away in 2022 at the age of 83. Up until that point I kept a garden on a fairly regular basis. I really enjoy gardening (at least I used to). There is something about turning the soil and watching vegetable plants grow and produce that I have always found greatly appealing, but after she died I lost interest. You see, she loved gardening too. Not so much vegetables, but she was always outside doing something in the yard. I can still see her wearing her floppy garden hat, siting in a chair with her arms elbow deep in a bag of potting soil. I miss seeing that. I really do. I guess that’s why my heart just wasn’t into growing anything. This year, however, I decided it was time to try gardening again. Back in January, I started some tomato seeds inside the house. I chose an heirloom variety called Amish Paste and another paste tomato called Roma. I’ll show some pictures on how they are coming along, but before that I’d like to share what happened shortly after I put the plants in the ground.

I can’t remember the exact day, but sometime in early April I was walking in my little garden plot, checking out the growing tomato plants, when I was suddenly overwhelmed with grief. It has been four years since my mom died, but the pain was just as raw as the day we lost her. We’ve all heard that grief comes in waves, but this felt like I had been knocked down by a giant tsunami. It hit me quickly and without warning and before I knew what was happening I found myself standing among the tomato plants sobbing over the loss of my mother. It only lasted for a few minutes, but by the time my tears had dried something really wonderful had happened. The grief that I had been carrying around for four long years magically changed from something deep and painful to a sweet fondness that I can’t really explain. Of course I still miss her, but not the way I used to. Maybe that sounds strange, but I believe anyone who has ever lost someone close to them understands what I am talking about. I’m sure I will never be able to comprehend what happened that day, but I’m thankful that I decided to start gardening again. I could have never imagined it would help me move past the loss of my mother.

In February, I dug trenches, filled them with compost, made the rows and covered them with fabric. The long row is for the Amish Paste tomatoes and the bed with two rows is for the Roma Tomatoes. I enclosed the Roma bed with landscape timbers and added a thick layer of mulch to keep out the relentless Florida weeds. In the background of the second picture you can see the trimmed back Muscadine grape vine that is running up the fence. We had an unusually cold winter this year, so the grass was still brown from multiple frosts.

On March 21st, I transplanted the tomatoes and added a drip watering system. The grass is starting to come back too.

In April, I removed the fabric from the Amish Paste and replaced it with mulch because it was tearing up and added strings that I plan to use for holding the tomato plants up. The Amish Paste are indeterminate, meaning they will continue to grow and produce as long as I can keep them healthy and happy. The Romas are determinate, meaning they will produce a crop and then call it quits. It’s not that visible, but I put cages around the Romas. I scattered in a few marigolds because they are a good companion plant to tomatoes, but I mainly did it because I like them. There are two potted zinnias sitting in the Roma bed that will also be going in the ground.

The last three pictures of the tomatoes were taken on May 14th. The Amish Paste are growing up the strings nicely and some of them are about 5 feet tall. The Romas are doing great too. Both are loaded with tomatoes and I expect to be harvesting soon. You can see the Muscadine grape vine coming to life and if you look closely you can see four Chaste trees in full bloom.

My mom probably wouldn’t approve, but I had to end with a picture of her wearing one of her garden hats. In this picture we were at a u-pick blueberry farm near our home. I miss her a lot, but now instead of feeling sad when I see plants, flowers and vegetables growing I feel happiness because I know it was something that made her happy.