Fall in Little Compton -- Text

We did the annual Rhode Island garden wrap-up this weekend. It was much easier to do this year because there was so little to harvest. Not much got planted, nothing got tended, animals feasted, hurricanes happened, and in the end, we reaped one squash, three small sweet potatoes, and a respectable pile of Good Mother Stallard beans. Those are the ones that vine up a supporting structure. The bush beans -- the Ireland Creek Annies and the Hutterite Soup Beans -- were a dead loss. They got beaten down in the hurricane and embedded in the encroaching weeds, and rotted on the ground.

Sad to say, this is probably the last year for the garden. Successful spring planting requires good bed preparation in the fall. I usually mix in compost and then cover each bed with newspaper and straw to keep weeds from sprouting. Right now, it's hard even to locate the beds. With no regular weeding, the surrounding hayfield has exerted its dominance over the garden. Even if the beds were evident, I have had neither the energy nor the interest to do the work required.

This garden was never intended to support us through the winter. As I worked in it, though, the phrase "getting in touch with my inner pioneer" often went through my head. What would it be like to farm this land for real? What if life depended on a good harvest? This year jolted me into the realization of how slim the margin can be sometimes, how one misfortune can snowball into another, bigger one. My inner pioneer would starve this winter. Of course -- another jolt -- lacking surgery, my inner pioneer might not have lived to see the winter at all.

I learned a lot from this garden. I learned there is a season to weeds, just as there is to other plants. I learned that you can't bend nature to suit your needs. I learned that it takes a whole lot of time, energy, money, and luck to grow good vegetables. I learned respect for the people who have tried to live off this heavy, sticky soil that is rich with clay and rocks, and poor with nutrients. I learned that good gloves prevent blisters, and that ibuprofen helps you to dig one or two more beds. I learned that even though a gas tiller is noisy and not authentic, it is way more efficient than tilling by hand with a mattock, a shovel, and a spading fork. I learned that sometimes it is impossible to accomplish what you set out to do, and you just do the best you can and let the rest go.

On a different note: I am sharing the last picture because it is so darn cute. My dad has Alzheimer's, and, at 91 has trouble getting around. One of the joys of his life is visits from his great-grandson Owen, who he calls "the little guy". Today, we hoisted Owen onto Dad's walker and Dad gave him rides around the house. It was hard to tell who had more fun!