Raising children, not flowers

Many years ago when Josh and I were looking to rent our first apartment together, we met with our future landlord for an interview to see if we would be a good match. We were hoping to rent an upper duplex from an older gentleman named August and his wife, Helmi. In our meeting, Josh was his usual extroverted self, and when August asked if we planned on having any pets, Josh responded that as I am allergic to fur, he was hoping to have an assortment of non-furred creatures including birds, reptiles, spiders, maybe some exotic insects. Then August asked us if we were married. I was not sure how to respond to this question, as August was in his seventies, and I was not sure he would be pleased to rent his apartment to a couple living in sin. Nervously I replied that we were not but we did plan to get married in the not too distant future. He visibly relaxed and said that he was pleased we were not married, as he really did not like having children upstairs, as they made a lot of noise. Josh inquired as to whether we would have permission to have a small garden space, to which August agreed, being an avid gardener himself. We left with a lease with a full page insert detailing that we were not permitted to breed reptiles, insects or any other unusual creatures. We did respect this clause and Josh only began his experiments with spider and mantis breeding in a subsequent apartment once he had learned to not mention these activities to prospective landlords.

We never did find the time to garden while we lived on Ronald drive. Shortly after moving in, we started planning our wedding, then we got married, then I did my master's degree. At the same time, Josh attempted his first (failed) catering business in partnership with his parents. We then started our family. Isaac was born four years after we moved in. August's early warning about not wanted children in the house became an ongoing issue. First it was my rocking chair that went bump in the night. Isaac never slept and that rocker and the swing were the only means by which I got any sleep that first year. Unfortunately, it woke August up. He tried to help us by improving the soundproofing, tightening the screws on the rocker, but it was an ongoing irritant for him. Before long, Isaac started walking. We were amazed at how loud were the noises from his frequent bumps when heard from below. A wise friend of mine at the time suggested I tell August that I am raising children, not flowers, and they will make noise.

Though this was true, we had developed a close friendship and deep respect for August, especially after the death of his wife. I did not want to cause this man so much stress in his own home. When I became pregnant with Zara, my second child, we decided that it would be better for everyone for us to move.

During those three years that we lived in that duplex with Isaac, we tried to teach him to walk quietly, not make loud noises, and generally be respectful of our older downstairs neighbours. Try as we might, it did not work. Isaac was by nature a loud child, he still is, and all our attempts of changing this did not seem to have any effect. I learned from him and my subsequent two children that they are who they are. As a parent you can steer them, provide opportunities for them to express their talents, or screw them up, but they show up with their own style, personalities, talents, energy levels and interests.

What does this have to do with gardening? I have found it fascinating to see how our gardening experience has been filtered through the different interests, personalities and talents of the members of the family.

I won't talk about myself in this respect, I think that it is a theme that runs throughout this blog. My garden is my opportunity for meditation, for writing, for having a little piece of the country in my own backyard. And for finally being able to raise flowers as well as children.

For Josh, the garden is yet another opportunity to problem-solve and play. He can obsessively emerge himself in the details of putting theories into practice. He can build cool stuff. Find the right matrix to grow his favorite mushrooms. Arbor sculpture his own living furniture. Graft different varieties of apple onto the same tree. He also can grow and cook ingredients which he cannot easily find in the store: the best sauce tomatoes, the biggest basil bushes, exotic melons, Japanese cucumbers. It is his space to do cool stuff. It also eases some of his paranoia, knowing that when civilization collapses, he will already be on his way to self-sufficiency. He even backed down on his anti-sunflower tirades when he acknowledged that we should learn how to grow our own oil producing plants, and they are easier to grow than olive trees in this climate.

Isaac has had almost no interest whatsoever in the garden itself. He is far more interested in the end product than participating in the production thereof. He is fifteen and going through a huge growth spurt, and happy to eat anything (and everything) in the fridge and pantry. He is fascinated with photography and filmmaking, though, and early on this summer I asked him if he could be the official photographer of our gardening experience. Some of the photos on this blog and on facebook are his work. He lost interest quickly and went back to playing on his computer.

Zara showed some initial enthusiasm, and joined Josh on a shopping trip to buy seeds early in spring. Josh and I had spent an evening choosing what we were going to grow, but they came home with all sorts of things which I did not expect. Zara had decided she wanted to grow peppers. She bought six different varieties of pepper, including sweet, mild and hot ones. Once I started planting the seeds, she was very resistant to the idea of planting any of "her" seeds. With my insistence, she helped out for a bit, then decided that I was much better at it than she was and she would rather go out and play with her friends. That was the last time she was involved with her peppers. Although I have planted, transplanted (up to three times), weeded, fertilized, watered and harvested them, they are still "her" peppers. Although if you ask our bird, he would probably insist that they were his personal treat. Throughout the summer, every time I look at a garden and point out the flowers I like, she replies that "flowers don't turn me on." I have learned to not talk flowers with her.

My youngest, Orianne, is the most interested in the garden. She spent a couple of weeks being my daily harvester of strawberries. She has been my partner in crime for my seed pilfering activities. She has spent hours checking out gardens with me up and down the streets and alleyways of the neighbourhood. Orianne has attempted to transplant a mint garden into the crook of the tree growing outside her bedroom window. She takes her friends around to show them the garden and help her pick beans and tomatoes. She is fascinated by the bees, ladybugs, spiders and mantises, and will listen to Josh explain their reproductive habits and how to identify if the females are pregnant. Yesterday, Orianne spooked a pregnant female mantis and it gave her its full display with wings open.

Today, I separated the seeds from the sunflower heads. Once I pulled off the remaining bits of the corolla (I think that is what you call the fluffy yellow bits on top) to reveal the seeds below, I showed it to Orianne. She was amazed. She wanted to paint it. We took some photos (I will post once downloaded) so that she can study at her leisure as I eat the seeds over the next few months.

I had hoped that all of my children would share my passion and take on a part of the garden project. But they are who they are. I can only show them what I like to do, and hope something may catch on. Only time will tell.