LIFE LESSONS FROM THE GARDEN, Part One

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: You’re never too old to learn something new. <<click here to read a previous blog post with a similar theme.>> 

And here we go again.

Even though I am rapidly approaching that magic number (no, not the legal drinking age, but the one for retirement), I'm still learning stuff. Every single day. I recently learned that playful pups and edible gardens do not have to be mutually exclusive. This is such a eureka moment for me, as it is contrary to a lesson I learned in my youth and have never forgotten. Dogs relieve themselves wherever they want, even if it’s in a pumpkin patch. Call me a germaphobe, but I just don’t like the idea of dog poo leeching in my Thanksgiving pie.

My youthful observations were confirmed when I read an article in my local paper. The opening paragraph caught my attention: “Animal waste tainting fresh produce is one of the major causes of food-borne ailments. So farmers markets and pick-your-own growers who fear fecal contamination are increasingly guarded about tolerating pets near their edibles.” 

My reaction was, “People really need to be told the basic sensibilities of life?"

But alas, yes, it seems people need to be told everything to think, feel, and do anymore. But that’s another topic for another more socially conscious blog. This one is about gardening. And dogs. And how I do not believe the two cannot peacefully coexist without risk of serious illness to myself and family. At least until now.

I have waged this battle my entire adult life…do I want fresh grown vegetables and herbs or do I want playful pups? Pups won out, every single time! Fresh herbs can be procured at the market, Three a.m. puppy snuggles cannot.  

A few years ago, I stumbled upon what I thought would be the perfect solution to my little dilemma. A stackable garden, higher than an aging girl dog could pee. One which I could tuck discreetly away from the spot in the lawn where she routinely (more like religiously) did her business. Problem solved! That year we enjoyed what I called the Scarborough Fair medley of fresh herbs. Wait, really? You don’t know what the Scarborough Fair medley is? Why, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme, of course! Old Simon and Garfunkel song. You can listen to it here. (Alas, I fear my age is showing…again!)

Anyway, things changed when we got the puppies, Tiller and Scout. They may look cute an innocent, but trust me when I say we call them The Destructo Brothers for good reason! They LOVE to annihilate anything and everything. I let them out in the backyard one sunny afternoon and ran inside to do something really quick. I’m talking like seven seconds, tops. When I ran back outside, I found pieces-parts of my herbs scattered hither and yon throughout my backyard. I calculated each tender little plant had provided .58 seconds of a tug-o-war before they’d moved on to the next. Three tiers, twelve plants, gone in the blink of an eye.  

When my husband came home with two flats of fresh herbs, I knew I had to do something. I really wanted an herb garden. He must not have read that article in the paper, as he suggested I channel my inner farm girl and plant a garden in the side yard. One problem…the pups. Solution finder that he is, he cobbled together a fence made of castoffs and garbage-day finds. Voila! My garden was safe from The Destructo Brothers—until they learned to leap the fence in a single bound.

I let my fingers do the shopping on the Internet and found the perfect solution. Something three feet off the ground (way above leg-lifting height), which could be tucked behind the aforementioned fence. It is six-feet long and two-feet wide. (And someone please explain to me why the inventor of this did not even get nominated for a Nobel Prize?)  

It is filled with little (but growing quickly!) plants! It took a lot of fresh soil to fill the basin. A lot. Like thirteen bags. Overall, I figure the one sprig of thyme I put in my last casserole cost me $50. It’s gonna be a long time before this little garden pays for itself, but in the meantime, it’s safe from the beasts. Any time a recipe calls for a soupçon of fresh oregano or a little snip of parsley, I can walk outside and harvest it. All the time singing another old favorite song, “Old McDonald had a farm. E-I-E-I-O. And on that farm he had a DOG, E-I-E-I-O!"

So at my advanced age, I learned I can have it all, dogs and a vegetable garden. Life is good! 

Cheers from my happy herb garden!