“A Gardener’s Gift”
BY Kathleen Conkey
My mother was a gardener. An Army family, we moved across the country at regular intervals, the old Rambler packed to the gills with four kids, two adults, enough camping equipment to make it from old home to new home, coolers full of food, everyone’s clothes, toys, books and games for the long trip. And there, tucked at my mother’s feet in the front seat passenger side were half a dozen or so plants, pulled from the old home’s garden, potted up for the trip, destined for the new home’s garden, a thousand miles away.
I never understood it. It was hard, back-breaking work. It had to be done on its schedule, whether the weather cooperated or not, and the results, to my mind, were often less than aesthetic. A moonflower there, a wilting rose bush there, perennials that didn’t come back, annuals that looked lonely when there were too few of them. And always, she would call me for help:
“Run and get the hand hoe, Kathy.”
“Water that area I just planted.”
“Watch how you have to spread the roots out when the plants are root-bound.”
I’d watch from the front yard as friends passed on their bicycles, stuck helping my mother garden.
When I bought a home in the Catskills 25 years ago, the last thing I wanted was to start a garden. No! I would spend my time biking, hiking, exploring the woods, birdwatching, anything but gardening. The place had some old peonies, two lilacs, a stand of day lilies. That was enough for me—no need to muck around in the dirt.
The very first day I was at my Catskills house, my nearest neighbor came to introduce himself, bringing fresh honey from his own bees. He explained that he and his partner did a lot of gardening and the bees were good for pollination. A few days later his partner brought a big box of herbs, dug up from their garden. “In case you want to start an herb garden. I needed to thin these out anyway.” A few days later, another neighbor came to introduce herself, bearing a tray full of perennials she had thinned from her garden. “Just in case you have some spots to fill in around the house.”
Well, I couldn’t just let these gift plants die, could I? An herb garden might be nice…perennials don’t take that much work…there were some bare spots around the house…
25 years later I have eight flower gardens, an herb garden, an orchard and a vegetable garden; many of the gardens started with gifts from neighbors and friends. Working in the gardens, I often laugh at how I tried to resist a hobby that is clearly in my blood, inherited from my mother.
My gardens bring me great joy, but it is the camaraderie and love of the good people of the Catskills who helped me build these gardens—so gracious, so welcoming, so generous—that I most treasure about the Catskills.