Dear old Dad tried to be a gardener, his heart was in it and he read quite a lot about it and he could do anything that he wanted but he never quite pulled it together. And he put a lot of faith in companies and the magic of chemicals and science. He was more scientist than artist. And he was a disorganized mess.
Our backyard had two little sheds for this effort because one proved insufficient. The first one was built like a small wooden red barn that you could walk into. Eventually it stored tools and sacks of chemicals and supplies and filled so compactly you couldn't pull anything out of it. So my younger brother built another one that looked like a girl's play house with windows and shutters a little bit larger than the barn shed and that one filled up instantly too.
Plus there were sacks of compost and fertilizers, soil amendments, insect poisons and such stacked at a potting work bench. Very careless and unorganized. He kept buying a lot of stuff and then didn't use it. In some cases didn't even put it away.
A sack of compost was leaned against a tree near the second shed. It sat there untended so long that it split open and the rain and the sprinklers poured through it. The whole bag blended into its spot. When I lifted it up ten billions worms were crawling all around underneath the split bag. BIG ONES! And I thought, "Man, oh man, this stuff is the way to go. This is proof of accidental success right here. Why doesn't he ditch everything else and put this stuff in all of the garden beds?"
It was psychologic.
In so many ways that I noticed my dad was averse to success. I observed him repeatedly work right up to the point of success with these side efforts then suddenly switch to something else that destroyed it. He grew fruit trees and when they finally matured and produced he cut them down for reasons unrelated to enjoying productive fruit trees.
The squirrels come and take one bite out of each fruit. The birds take everything.
He always wanted to grow his own horseradish and he tried different ways then he bought a piece from the grocery store and planted it at the side of the house which by accident turned out to be an ideal spot where it didn't need any attention and the horseradish took over the entire side of the house and kept expanding and it pissed him off so badly that he cut it all out. He had to dig out all the roots or they'd take over again. One tiny piece left in would grow to annoyance again. It was too invasive and that was the end of the horseradish obsession. And that stuff is strong!
These are only two examples but I noticed several others that fit this pattern. He lived for the challenge of things not for the success of things and I found that an odd psychologic characteristic.
1 comment:
Stories about your dad, his focus, his love for his family and ways of expressing himself and showing love, his diligence and his attention to duty bring up a sense of appreciation and frustration in me when I read them.
They remind me of some the incongruities I experienced in my parents (born in 1914 and 1921) who were both adult children of alcoholics, firstborns who were indomitable in their own ways, able to devote themselves to duty and persevere through hardships to realize excellence in their work.
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