Guest column: In the garden, effort fertilizes

I am breaking the first rule of writers: "Write about what you know." Even though my husband and I have raised gardens for 50 years, my knowledge of the plant world remains quite incomplete. I come from a long line of gardeners, not Master Gardeners, mind you, but women who mastered gardening to feed their families and spruce up the yard with flowers if they had time or energy to spare.

It was understood that I would carry on this gardening tradition when I married and had children. We bought my family home in Douglas County, Wisconsin, complete with my Mom's large garden plot and an abundance of flower beds.

Under my mom's tutelage, we planted all the vegetables our family would require for a year. We reaped the bounty and wonderful flavor of healthy homegrown produce that was canned or frozen for later use. The flower beds gradually slipped away as I focused on what we could eat. The vegetable garden challenged us, though, because it was red clay, hard, clumpy, and prime soil for weed growth.

We had a few livestock and were able to add manure to loosen the dirt enough to get seeds into the ground, and then everything grew. I consulted with my mom and my aunt as needed, but never had the time or energy to delve into the depths of the plant world.

Fast-forward several decades, to a new location in Twin Lakes Township in Carlton County. One reason we chose the area for our retirement spot was to get away from the red clay. According to the neighbors, our new home rests on land that was part of a very successful cabbage, potato, and sheep farm. Exactly what we wanted. We could actually push a shovel into the turf without a sledgehammer.

One of our first orders of business was to work up a garden spot. The soil was loose with a few -well, more than a few - stones that needed to be removed but, all in all, it looked pretty good. However, this soil had much to teach us. On the one hand, potatoes like newly broken ground and did quite well. On the other hand, the green beans that survived the insects looked pathetic. Never before had green beans let me down. Tomatoes developed blossom-end rot and suffered blight; half or parts of rows of veggies looked fair, but the rest yielded anemic dwarf plants without produce. We had nice loose soil, but it didn't feed the plants.

This was new territory for us old-fashioned gardeners. We had the soil tested, looked for help on garden websites, and learned about amending the soil. We needed to build back the nutrients and microorganisms to make the soil fertile for our plants.

These challenges are part of what make gardening such a rewarding activity. Next year can give you another chance to try again. Reflecting on my gardening experiences, I know my gardens have been my teachers through the years. Many sermons, stories, and books reference the plant world and the metaphors that pertain to everyday life. I have learned patience while waiting for results, perseverance when faced with pests and adverse weather, acceptance of failure, the joy of success, and the peace offered by Mother Earth when I get up close and personal. I have learned that I don't need to know volumes of information to enjoy my garden, but I can always learn something new, and as the plants grow, so does my knowledge.

While preparing this piece I ran across an excerpt from the book "The Importance of Living" by Lin Yutang, in which he lauds the efforts of amateurs in all types of endeavors as they work to accomplish their goals for their own personal satisfaction without pressure to be No. 1.

His view affirms my gardening efforts. My produce here may not be the biggest, the best, or the earliest of the season, but I can say "I grew it."

Writer Francy Chammings is a retired English teacher and clinical psychologist who loves living in Carlton County (and gardening).