Wrapping the Garden

I must admit this picture did make me chuckle, and while I don’t think it personally applies (others might) I can certainly relate to its inference. I’m not Methuselah, but I’ve been around long enough to know the workings of the world myself by now.

Anyway, it’s late August here—nearing fall in the northern hemisphere, and gardens are still plugging away producing the essentials for a long winter’s abundance before the first killing frost in early October.

As a kid I can remember the immensity of my parent’s orchards and gardens on two acres filled with fruits, berries, nuts, and all possible vegetables that were then processed for long-term storage by them (and me eventually) in our kitchen. My grandmother had the greenest of thumbs, and under her tutelage my mother and I learned to can, freeze, pickle, and cold-store everything we grew on our own lands so we always had food to eat during the coldest of months ahead.

My parents and grandmother had gone through the Great Depression of the 1930’s, also World War II where growing Victory Gardens was encouraged to stem national food shortages, and to help support your family and neighbors. I arrived later in their lives (adopted) so that they were more financially stable and emotionally solid in dealing with the world at large by then, but they also knew what it took to survive the toughest of circumstances as they were battle-hardened from their own life experiences.

So from my parents and grandmother’s training I learned the importance of self-reliance and self-determination. You didn’t wait around for someone else to do your work for you or help you with your tasks—you just DID them. Don’t whine—just DO. Strong work ethics always kept food on the table so get off your rear and get it DONE now. That was probably their greatest gift to me, and no doubt where I learned to be so self-sufficient.

On our current 10-acre property, my spouse and I still garden which means we can, freeze, and pickle a variety of crops and even cold-store butternut squash in the basement for months. Old habits die hard and serve you well if they advance your longevity. There is nothing like pulling out a quart of stewed tomatoes or Bread and Butter pickles or frozen green beans, corn, and beets mid-February that you picked yourself from your own garden. And since I like to cook, it really isn’t work to create a meal with whatever we were blessed to harvest during the heat of summer. It is actually very satisfying to do so.

This leads me to the eventual point of all this reminiscing: We are who we are for many reasons—some genetic, some ingrained, some later-learned. I can’t link my genetics to my parents and grandmother, but I can link my strong sense of independence and self-determination to the lessons that they taught me—to how they showed me to be—in other words, how they showed me ‘to be like them.’

That is the legacy we can offer those who come after us—to be the model of how to live and love and treat one another. To show others by our simply doing and being.

You don’t have to grow “older and crankier” to claim your space here now—you can claim it by ‘good example’ just as easily—by being generous and compassionate—loving and giving. It’s the same amount of effort.

If you want to be of importance to this world, then BE THE CHANGE you want to see around you. Let future gardeners harvest fruits from trees of your ‘good intentions’ planted long before their time—offer them ‘the best of humanity’ intentionally planted now by YOU.

Give them future sustenance from your hard-earned wisdom and the depth of your experiences. Show them. Teach them. Mold them to be hardy souls who stand strongly for their freedoms and independence. But show them also what it takes to get along well with others—then to reiterate to others later what they in turn learned and lived.

Above all else, show them how to share their abundance and to sincerely care for others besides themselves.

In other words, you don’t have to get crusty with age—you can get creative instead.