Nana and Owen's Garden

One afternoon last week, I took all my perennials out of my biggest rectangular garden in my back yard. As I dug up the deep roots of ferns and irises, I thought about this project that I have envisioned all winter. I first had this idea of making Nana and Owen’s garden when reading my girlfriend Andrea Cameron’s book, “ Cameron’s Corner.” In it, she talks about the importance of vegetable gardens and her son. Gently transplanting my flowers, I reflected on how I want my grandchildren to have a place to get dirty, to feel the soil run through their fingers and watch things grow. I’ve bought Owen a pair of fire engine rubber boots and have a poka-dot pair for me. They wait on the basement step for Owen to arrive. Meanwhile, I dig and pull, rake and flatten, hoping that as Owen grows, he will be excited to come to Nana’s to work on his vegetable garden.
Now I know that this year he might not get into it fully. He is only 22 months old after all. But I believe in starting meaningful habits with children early. I’ve instructed Emily to send extra clothes for Owen’s much anticipated sleepover because he is going to get dirty. Meanwhile, the plot sits idle, waiting. Meanwhile Vincent, our tenant, tries to convince me to scrap my plan and create a zen garden. Really? And miss out on years of fun with my grandchildren. Sorry, no can do. So finally tonight, Owen is sleeping soundly in his crib in his room next to Nana’s. Our rubber boots are at the door, along with Owen’s new yellow pail and garden tools, just his size.
Early the next morning, after a visit to Tait’s for breakfast, Owen and I head to the garden, pails in hand. My nonstop conversation to Owen is answered with his usual response, ‘huh.” “Owen, want to plant some seeds?” “Huh?” After I string each line and dig the trenches, I open the packets and place the seeds in Owen’s plumb baby hand. His first attempt results in seeds anywhere but in the trench. But as we practice, he gets the hang of it. He is most successful with the large seeds for beets and cauliflower. After each package, he asks me, “Done?” “No, Owen, not quite,” I reply. At times, he takes a break and plays with his cars on the nearby driveway. Every so often, his left boot comes off. Frugal Nana bought the boots a little big in hopes that they would fit next year.
As the sun is reaching its zenith, Owen and I finish up with gladiola bulbs, nice and round. Then Owen sits down and plays happily in a bare patch in the garden for thirty minutes. I’m not sure how successful our efforts will be, I’ve never managed to grow bushels of vegetables from seed but together we will try. In the meantime, we will create some memories together and maybe even get dirty once in a while.