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Gardening in America
Inch by Inch

by Nancy Fletcher


Someone wrote that home makers, among women,  are usually grounded in stability as far as mental health is concerned because they have such variety in their lives.

    “Well, I’m not so sure about that. Seems like things can get pretty spooky around here, sometimes. When the cars are all down with no way to get around, except Rod’s old battered truck that takes a strong arm and dim wit to drive it,  I must say, I don’t get a little paranoid or frustrated or worried out of my mind.  This woman simply goes into pioneer mode taking whatever comes by that day and living as the opportunist. Catching anyone coming this way with a promise to bring this or that, can be an art. Doesn’t bother me a bit to ask. Somehow or another things get done and life goes on (and on, and on, and on).

    This is the thinking I’ve taken for working on a new garden spot. The old space is now a lawn of Bermuda and that is great for less dust but here I am without a place to grow vegetables.

    “Not removing the cedars!” my husband informs me.

    “How about trimming them up so I can get light in there for a garden spot?”

    This was a compromise but it was settled. So now all I had to do was find someone who would work by the hour and make a trade of some sort. That just sort of fell into my lap. The man actually wanted one of my paintings, so the deal was made. Rodney wouldn’t let him carry the branches off. He wants to use them for something or other.

    Moving the railroad ties to this location wasn’t too difficult for me. They served their purpose in marking other beds and in the process have become rotted and lighter than they originally were and I just tumbled them into  place. One edge is the trunk of one of the cedars that was dead and had to be cut down. Essentially it is the marking of the space to make it work. I can now begin to put mulch, charcoal, fish fertilizer down for next years,  spring-garden.

    Along the length of the railroad ties will be the starts of winter onions I’ve sprouted for a border.  So, inch by inch everything is a cinch and with that attitude there is no anxiety involved.  It’s all for the fun of watching the grandchildren pulling ripe tomatoes off the vine, anyway, and if that ain’t lovin’ you, then, God didn’t make little green apples,”  Roger Miller.


Here is the scraggly little onions but they will grow. This is like a before and after picture and I will be adding something a bit at a time for the Nancy Fletcher page.


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