BY JOELLEN COLLINS
How tasty were the green beans from our Victory Garden when my mother and most households grew our own food to save resources for the “boys’’ fighting in WWII! We would pick them from the plot near our clothesline, cook and cool them and then snack on the fresh treats.
My mother was an inveterate gardener: when we moved from relative affluence in San Francisco to a small tract house in Burbank, Calif., she spent weeks converting a dirt and weed-filled backyard into a sanctuary. Next to a terraced stretch filled with roses, Birds of Paradise, elephant ears, morning glories, gardenias and jasmine, my parents constructed a covered outdoor space with creeping vines, lounge chairs and a flagstone floor meant to be used as a retreat for our family. Our annual Mother’s Day gift for her was invariably a new rose bush.
I have tried to be the gardener she was, without success. I planted layers of vegetables on a hill in Malibu, only to have my neighbor’s terrific little boy pull up the plants thinking he was helping me weed. I harvested only a plethora of zucchinis and pumpkins.
A few years ago I looked at houses in Hailey, hoping for a fenced yard for doggie pleasure and the prospect of a small plot for my own garden. I finally found a place in Ketchum I didn’t imagine buying at first. My new condo not only didn’t have a yard, but the outdoor area consisted of a very small deck. I remember being sad that I couldn’t test my green thumb as I had hoped.
One of the lessons I have learned with maturity is that often things we think we need may not be necessary. In my case, the massive banks of flowers and the succulent vegetables I hoped to grow have instead translated into the very small but inordinately pleasing spot that I fill in summer with as many flowers as I can, leaving just enough space for a deck chair and a barbecue. My hours spent reading among the blaze of flowers is sufficient for my summer joy.
I have realized that I can be very comfortable in this small space and actually have time left over to tackle my book list instead of acquire sore knees bending over the vegetables I crave. In “retirement” I seem to have less time for this hobby, so my transition is appropriate. Besides, my friends don’t want to eat versions of zucchini soup, bread and other permutations of the excessive fruits of my efforts.
Sometimes life provides us the gift of smaller places and new challenges. I occupy less space anyway, as I no longer have needs for the areas children occupy. At least I can still smell the flowers blooming by Highway 75 in my special nook. I may try for a pot of tomatoes if I can find the space. Even Mom would approve!