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Lessons I’ve Learned


By Paul James

The year was 1979. Carrie and I married that January, and in March we purchased our first home in Florence Park for what was then the staggering sum of $34,900. Before we’d unpacked our belongings, I began digging bermudagrass out of a 400-square-foot spot in the backyard that was to become my first vegetable garden. Now 43 years later, I’m still at it, having never missed a single season. Here’s what I’ve learned along the way. 

Lessons Learned, Observations, and Witticisms from an Aging but Still Active Gardener 

No matter how many bags of mulch you buy, you’ll always be at least one bag short.

Failure is inevitable. Learn from it.

Squirrels and birds know the day before you plan on harvesting a ripe tomato.

Soil is the stomach of the earth. Feed it often with compost.

Soil is alive. Until you grasp that concept you’ll never really get gardening.

Making compost is rot science, not rocket science.

Sometimes a boulder is a better choice for a problem spot than a plant. And it doesn’t need to be watered.

Trying to improve clay soil by adding sand is a recipe for disaster, unless you plan on making bricks.

The reproductive rate of rabbits is at least three times what you think it is.

Squash bugs are the enemy of the people, especially those who love squash.

Despite their tiny brains, squirrels are ingenious critters.

Big dogs and beautiful lawns rarely go together.

The smell of freshly turned compost is one of the greatest olfactory experiences.

We have lots of reasons for gardening. To live a memory is the most powerful for me.

Ladders and chainsaws are a very bad combination.

If you spend 6 hours actively gardening, plan on spending 12 hours recovering.

A garden is not a farm.

There is no real economic benefit to growing your own food. Sorry. But a freshly harvested, ripe, juicy tomato is priceless.

I’ve never grown a potato I didn’t like.

A cheap tool is an expensive tool.

When doing rock work, move the rock once. Only once.

Spend time in your garden at night. It’s a whole new world.

People spend all their money in the front yard and all their time in the back. Weird.

Ask five so-called gardening “experts” a question and you’ll get five different answers.

Leaves are treasure, not trash.

I cringe when I hear someone say “plant material.” Lumber is a material. So is concrete. And steel. Plants are amazing, living things. To call them a material is offensive to me, and suggests a real disconnect in how people view plants.

Compost is amazing stuff. Truly amazing.

I’ll take a biodiverse pasture over a perfectly manicured lawn any day. Just look at my lawn.

Understanding the value of diversity is critical to understanding gardening. And humanity. 

My wife picks up dog poop every day. I still manage to step in the pile she missed.

Gardening is cheaper than a therapist.

Like it or not, Latin is the language of plants. It’s the only way to know exactly what someone is talking about.

When someone asks me the Latin name of a plant, I sometimes forget. Three minutes after they leave, I remember.

Automatic sprinkler systems cause more problems than they’re worth unless they’re programmed properly. And they rarely are.

Watering in winter can save you lots and lots of money.

Think of your garden as a cake, and think of mulch as icing.

I don’t like the term “bad bugs.” Most are just hungry vegetarians.

I first learned about parthenogenesis, the process by which aphids can be born pregnant, in high school biology. To this day, it still freaks me out.

I leave you now with what I think is the most important lesson I’ve learned in all my years of gardening.

The most important time spent in the garden is the time spent not gardening. 

Happy gardening, ya’ll.


2 responses to “Lessons I’ve Learned”

  1. This has to be my favorite blog post!!