You know, when I began to think of this piece I realized how lucky I was to have a gardening angel (thank you, Betty!). I've remade my current garden at least five times and, although I'm better at it now, its always a work in progress both frustrating and lovely to do. She has stayed one of my guiding resources for many things in life.
Two strong women and one in the making. Someone was bound to fall out of favor. This piece reminded me of so many things: my first garden; my first and only mother-in-law; my first gathering of opinions from those who knew more than I. My firsts were in Missouri. I love that your's are in a Brooklyn back yard. Great charm, good feelings, as usual.
Wonderful stories, Pat, but I'm so sorry it broke up your friendship. But were you really shelling peas at the end of summer? Your memory may have faded like the photo but what stays strong is that vision of neighborliness, so important in this day and age.
I still cringe over how thoughtless I was and miss our talks. I'm very inclined to think you're right, but it was definitely after Labor Day because my son had just started school and hated it. Could she had planted seeds in succession to prolong the harvest? If we were still friends I could ask Betty but I'll defer to you.
Oh dear, it might open up a new pathway to Betty. Try it and see. The thing about peas is this: they do like cool weather. In New England we plant them at Patriot’s Day to be ready for fourtha July. They don’t much like summer heat. But go ask Betty, Pat—I bet she’ll respond to the challenge.
A few years later, she moved to the Poconos and I heard she's no longer among us anymore. But I did ask another friend down the street. He said that he and Betty would seed a crop in late Aug or no later than the first week in September. But, still, he agrees with you--and he knows how much this old brain has a tendency to make things up.
My goodness, Pat. Reading your piece brings back some very fond memories of our 12 years in Brooklyn. Steve had no interest in hanging shelves, choosing to spend all of his leisure time (if you could call it that, almost nonexistent while raising three little boys) outside in our 20' x 40' backyard, just a few doors away from you. A backyard is truly a luxury in NYC. We had a lot of privacy, even with our chain link fence, because no one, I mean no one was in their backyards, not in the houses above us or below us, something I never understood.
The entire center of the backyard was cement, with a perimeter of 2 feet of dirt on either side, and a raised garden opposite the house. In the raised garden was a mulberry tree, obviously growing there long before we purchased the house. Our oldest son, Jeffrey, first learned to climb a tree in our Brooklyn backyard. (You gave him The Giving Tree as a birthday present, which we still have on our bookshelf.) Well, a lot more than a tree grew in Brooklyn. We had a stunning awning of seedless green grapes growing which beautifully framed our 12' long kitchen window on the first floor, grown from a cutting given to us by Mr. Ben, a lovely Italian man who lived behind us. He invited us into his basement to see how he made homemade wine. We had a fig tree and raspberry bushes that produced more fruit than we could eat. We had a peach tree and an apple tree too. Only vegetables were grown in the raised garden, tomatoes, of course, peppers, zucchini, peas, eggplant squash, and more. All organic!
The only time we ever saw our neighbor, Mrs. Cooney, in the adjoining brownstone was on Saturday, when she neatly hung her very white bras and girdles, and nylon stockings all across her clothes line. Steve suggested to her that the nylons would be perfect for tying up his tomato plants! Oh yes, fond memories...
You know, when I began to think of this piece I realized how lucky I was to have a gardening angel (thank you, Betty!). I've remade my current garden at least five times and, although I'm better at it now, its always a work in progress both frustrating and lovely to do. She has stayed one of my guiding resources for many things in life.
Oh, I'm sorry you lost your friendship over the fence but such a great story.
Still haunts me--my garden today would be much better if Betty was around!
Two strong women and one in the making. Someone was bound to fall out of favor. This piece reminded me of so many things: my first garden; my first and only mother-in-law; my first gathering of opinions from those who knew more than I. My firsts were in Missouri. I love that your's are in a Brooklyn back yard. Great charm, good feelings, as usual.
Great story! I need a Betty as I try and prevent lily of the valley from taking over all my other flowers!
I love lily of the valley but they always die out. I didn't know they were so invasive!
Wonderful stories, Pat, but I'm so sorry it broke up your friendship. But were you really shelling peas at the end of summer? Your memory may have faded like the photo but what stays strong is that vision of neighborliness, so important in this day and age.
I still cringe over how thoughtless I was and miss our talks. I'm very inclined to think you're right, but it was definitely after Labor Day because my son had just started school and hated it. Could she had planted seeds in succession to prolong the harvest? If we were still friends I could ask Betty but I'll defer to you.
Oh dear, it might open up a new pathway to Betty. Try it and see. The thing about peas is this: they do like cool weather. In New England we plant them at Patriot’s Day to be ready for fourtha July. They don’t much like summer heat. But go ask Betty, Pat—I bet she’ll respond to the challenge.
A few years later, she moved to the Poconos and I heard she's no longer among us anymore. But I did ask another friend down the street. He said that he and Betty would seed a crop in late Aug or no later than the first week in September. But, still, he agrees with you--and he knows how much this old brain has a tendency to make things up.
Love it! I think it's time to shell some peas!!
My goodness, Pat. Reading your piece brings back some very fond memories of our 12 years in Brooklyn. Steve had no interest in hanging shelves, choosing to spend all of his leisure time (if you could call it that, almost nonexistent while raising three little boys) outside in our 20' x 40' backyard, just a few doors away from you. A backyard is truly a luxury in NYC. We had a lot of privacy, even with our chain link fence, because no one, I mean no one was in their backyards, not in the houses above us or below us, something I never understood.
The entire center of the backyard was cement, with a perimeter of 2 feet of dirt on either side, and a raised garden opposite the house. In the raised garden was a mulberry tree, obviously growing there long before we purchased the house. Our oldest son, Jeffrey, first learned to climb a tree in our Brooklyn backyard. (You gave him The Giving Tree as a birthday present, which we still have on our bookshelf.) Well, a lot more than a tree grew in Brooklyn. We had a stunning awning of seedless green grapes growing which beautifully framed our 12' long kitchen window on the first floor, grown from a cutting given to us by Mr. Ben, a lovely Italian man who lived behind us. He invited us into his basement to see how he made homemade wine. We had a fig tree and raspberry bushes that produced more fruit than we could eat. We had a peach tree and an apple tree too. Only vegetables were grown in the raised garden, tomatoes, of course, peppers, zucchini, peas, eggplant squash, and more. All organic!
The only time we ever saw our neighbor, Mrs. Cooney, in the adjoining brownstone was on Saturday, when she neatly hung her very white bras and girdles, and nylon stockings all across her clothes line. Steve suggested to her that the nylons would be perfect for tying up his tomato plants! Oh yes, fond memories...