Fifty years ago, everyone had a garden—it was almost a necessity—but now, it’s an activity at which grandparents are often the experts. Which means, with the renewed interest in “green,” that it’s a perfect multi-generational family activity
Three Secrets for Getting Your Kids—and Grandkids—Involved in Gardening
Do you value gardening and express the enjoyment you receive from getting your hands dirty? If you have fun, your children will have fun too. It’s contagious.
If children feel they are making decisions, they have something at stake and feel more involved. Let them pick some vegetables or flowers that will go into the garden. (Seed catalogs have great color pictures and can be invaluable in descriptions of varieties.) Let them decide where things will go in the garden; involve them in every step of the process.
Work alongside them—don’t make them feel they are doing your work. If they’re small, get them some kid-sized tools. Throw dirt clods, show them worms and insects in the soil, make the beds into funny designs. Laugh. Rinse. Repeat.
Choosing What to Grow
Flowers: Flowers can be a border or the whole garden. Use crayons to draw the garden map first. It’s wonderful to start plants from seed but transplants and the flowers they produce are the first things to mature. Since it is important to show results quickly, annuals are always a big hit.
Dude, got some weed? The kind you find in your lawn, that you cut with a sharp blade or douse with herbicides?
I am looking for one in particular — the dandelion. The French named this flower dens leonis, or “lion’s tooth” referring to the jagged points on the leaves. You know the yellow flower or the puff ball after the flower goes to seed. But dandelions offer more than momentary entertainment or irritation.
Weed ‘Em and Eat
In France people grow dandelions to eat, just as we might grow lettuce. It’s best to collect dandelion leaves in early spring and then harvest again in late fall. As Wildman Steve Brill tells us:
“Dandelion greens are wonderful in salads, sauteed or steamed. They taste like chicory and endive, with an intense heartiness overlying a bitter tinge. People today shun bitter flavors; they’re so conditioned by overly sweet or salty processed food. But in earlier times, we distinguished between good and bad bitterness. Mixed with other flavors, as in a salad, dandelions improve the flavor.”
Some good news, too, for locavores and for nervous parents. There are no poisonous look-alikes for dandelions.
And it’s a rare weed indeed that has a book named after it: Dandelion Wine is Ray Bradbury’s recreation of a boy’s childhood, combining moments from his life and his imagination.
“Dandelion wine. The words were summer on the tongue. The wine was summer caught and stoppered.”
Wild ramps are a delicate-looking plant that add some serious flavor to salads, pasta, lamb and more. They have a strong garlic flavor, and can be consumed from tip to tip.
With their small white bulb, ramps resemble green onions but the leaves are something else altogether—long, oval, and almost silky, with pointed ends. The little pistil or stem is either red or purple. All in all, one sexy plant. (Forgive me if I wax rhapsodic, but I’m a big, big fan.)
One of the last truly seasonal foods available in North America, wild ramps go by many names including wild leek, ramson, and ail de bois.
Found in forests from South Carolina to Canada, and as far west as Missouri and Minnesota, wild ramps are the first patch of edible green to appear after the snows retreat—and treasured by settler families desperate for any fresh food come winter’s end. Ramps represent a healthy dose of vitamins, a tonic for the blood, and some much needed flavor after a winter subsisting on root vegetables.
If You Can Stand the Excitement . . .
Do a quick search and you will find ramp festivals throughout West Virginia this month. The “Feast of the Ramson” is trumpeted with promotional language that verges on the breathless:
When I first heard about the move to rooftop gardening, I thought it was a sweet idea, but hardly a world-beater.
But I am wrong for a hundred reasons.
Inspired by local farmers, the staff of Herons Restaurant at Vancouver’s Fairmont Waterfront started a 2,100-square-foot garden and apiary more than 18 years ago. The impact is measured one bite—and one buck—at a time.
Chefs are responsible for planning, planting, weed control, pest control through the use of a spray using orange pekoe tea and biodegradable soap, and of course harvesting. Food doesn’t come by truck but by the sweat of your brow. When Fairmont chefs talk to local farmers, there is a more direct connection between grower and chef. Chefs have a greater appreciation for the effort that goes into bringing food to their prep tables.
Hotel guests sample produce picked moments ago, including 60 varieties of herbs, edible flowers, fruits, and vegetables. And they can stroll in the garden, running their fingers over the lavender or sampling a strawberry.
“Due to the focus of The Fairmont Waterfront’s herb garden—sustaining the restaurant with its needs throughout the seasons—it truly provides a connection for our team’s inspiration when creating seasonal dishes,” says Executive Chef Patrick Dore. “Our commitment to work with local producers who share the same philosophies in regional and sustainable practices allows our restaurant to offer a true taste of Vancouver.”
A half-acre garden will never replace even for a day the network of suppliers the hotel needs to feed its guests. But easy access and freshness provide another value: lower food costs. The apiary pollinates the garden but also produces honey worth over $5,000 a year. Even a small 1/2 acre garden, like the one at the Fairmont Waterfront, can generate considerable savings on food inputs.
When you look down from a midtown Manhattan skyscraper you see acres of tar roofs. Do they all have to go green? Of course not—but just imagine if they did. What a wonderful, nutritious, world it would be.
I started out by making just one map—for Trade Secrets’ garden tour, a annual charitable event in Sharon, Connecticut.
Then the organizers decided that they wanted to give finished paintings to each host or owner, to show their appreciation.
I can paint at any time, though I prefer the summer. What I get down on paper using photographs as a guide is the structure of the garden. What I provide in the end is a portrait, of house and garden. It helps that I spent a year at the Monserrat College of Art.
Many farm wives must work full time off the farm, but I’m lucky to be able work at Whippoorwill Farm full time. The art is something extra that I enjoy tremendously.
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