Brrrr! Slip some shoes on, don’t bother with a jacket, grab the pile of tattered old sheets and towels, and toss them over the six or so plants and beds that I don’t want to freeze on a freezing night. Run back inside. Brrrr! That was a little exhilarating, a little ridiculous. Speed gardening.
That is a real scene about once a year, NOT typical of my gardening style. A garden is usually my go-to space for calming, contemplating, caring for plants, myself, and others. Allowing for daydreams and discoveries. Taking time to take in beauties such as ice crystals on the native desert marigold leaves the following morning. Even when I rush with students to complete a task, we have first explored. So, why hurry??
Sometimes, speed is a result of poor planning, like when I didn’t cover plants earlier in the day and remember just before bedtime. More often it’s a matter of trying to be in two places at once. Pandemic pressures of physically tending to public gardens while supervising my kids at home last year during remote learning made for a few good speed gardening stories. Even at home, being a parent means relishing 15-30 minutes to focus out front before being needed inside. I can hurry if I have to.
A speed propagation story
Hurry, hurry, lay the trays out.
Hurry, hurry, pour the soil in.
Hurry, hurry, poke the seeds in.
Hurry, hurry, pour the water in.
Hurry, hurry, set the trays on shelves.
Hurry, hurry… never mind, no time for labels.
A fire truck song, from a years-ago Mildred and Dildred storytime, morphed into an entertaining but useful chant when I had half an hour to prepare seeds RIGHT THEN if there was a chance for them to be ready for a class three weeks out. Then back inside I went to put out metaphorical fires among my boys.
A speed harvesting story
7:45: Get kids on Zoom
8:00: Leave the house
8:20: Arrive at Marana Community Garden and wash hands
8:25: Pick and bag lettuce, beets, broccoli, peas
8:45: Pack up bags and GO
9:05: Arrive, somewhat amazed at myself, at the ICS Food Bank, thankful for clearly signed parking and easy rules for making a donation.
Timing mattered in early March 2021 not only because I needed to get home to my boys, but because the food needed to be delivered fresh for distribution that day. Fast forward to January 2022: I made a donation of tomatoes by picking them one day and delivering them the next, and was less rushed picking because my kids were safely at school. An hour in the garden feels way better than 25 minutes!
A speed planting story
On a mid-November morning, 2021, I had an hour to do my winter planting: scrape together some rows, pull the most-in-the-way weeds, poke in seeds of plants that love winter. Lettuce and carrots? Check. Irrigation tubing lined up? Check. Soil prepared? Actually not. I didn’t take the time to add organic matter despite the known need for amending sticky clay. I hoped that there was still some goodness left from preparing that space 13 months prior, and that the fence would keep the critters at bay…
Slow down, Anna! Now, in January, the lettuce is too little. The carrots are clearly nibbled, as are the peas from a different, more fertile row. I talked to them all on a cloudy winter morning, praising their efforts anyway. I transplanted, then added shelters for, the peas. By being there at irrigation time, I learned where and why water was NOT. Huh. Let’s see if my adjustments help with greater growth. With my husband’s help back home, I also carved out enough time in the garden that day to shape larger, more fertile rows.
I’ll add new seeds and starts there – next time, not pushing my luck today. The garden will be there, teaching me from both successes and set-backs. The next season will come, so I’ll plant for both winter and spring. I CAN speed garden, but I am thankful for the times I don’t need to.