By Jessica Hallett
Oh, gardening. Gardening and I have had quite a bumpy relationship over my 34 years. I have mentioned a few times that I come from a long line of gardeners; I'm actually the 5th generation of a garden center started in 1885 by my great-great-grandfather. So, the love of gardening must have come naturally, right?
Hell, no. It may have been my roots, but at times those roots were like poison ivy—something you actively avoid and can be impossible to get rid of.
I love my family, I swear; I just didn't always love dirt.
If I am being honest, I much preferred trips to the mall and pretty handbags. But I've also mentioned before that I am a huge fan of enemies-to-lovers. I mean, isn't that how the best love stories come about? This is my version of that.
When I moved to North Carolina while my husband was in the military, I was terribly homesick. Though I may not have enjoyed the biology of plants, my family members are my best friends. They're the people I want to spend all my time with. To be 900 miles away from them was overwhelmingly hard. So, one day when I was feeling particularly down, my husband and I stopped at a local garden center. The minute I walked in and smelled the distinct smell of soil, I felt like I was home. It was a smell that came through the door on my father every day of my life. It was my childhood; it was my family. I didn't know it at the time, but I think this was when my love of gardening started to grow.
When I moved back to Maine, I resumed helping out at the greenhouse whenever I could, strictly as a cashier, mind you. The thing about my family? We work hard, and we support one another no matter what. If the business needs help, I'm there. Always.
It felt good to be back with my family and the employees who had always been like family. My husband and I had recently bought our first house, with flower beds that needed tending, whether I liked it or not. This was also around the time that I met the insanely smart, most selfless, kind-hearted, energetic, and hilarious human being that is Abby.
Abby had started working at the greenhouse as her after-school job, and right from the beginning, we became fast friends. Though our lives were at completely different stages, our connection was effortless.
Ten years later, Abby is one of my best friends and my ride-or-die gardening partner. We plan our gardens together, harvest together, and share our produce as well as our gardening triumphs and failures daily. Even though she is a pharmacist now and I am
chasing a toddler while burying my face in romance books, we still make time to learn together and cultivate the best gardens we can. It's vital for our mental health and our friendship. And yes, even with hectic schedules, you can still find us behind the cash register from time to time, making a scene that causes my uncle to turn off his hearing aids on the regular.
When the world shut down in 2020, I found myself in a panic, as most of us did. How was I going to keep my family safe and cared for? There was so much unknown, and, as someone who fights severe anxiety, I was determined to not let it get the best of me. My solace? My vegetable gardens.
In those first few months, when there were limited things I could do for my family and friends, I could grow food. I still consider myself a beginner and could probably have fed people for a solid two, three weeks tops, but it was something I could do at a time when I felt so useless.
Abby and I got to work making our most intense garden plans over FaceTime to date. We added raised beds to our yards, started seeds, reached out to our gardening elders for advice, and got to work. At the time, my son was 18 months old, and he joined in, too, learning to plant and the names of plants I had only just learned myself. I found happiness and comfort in those gardens, pride in what I had created, and peace in knowing my son was learning how to use the land at such a young age.
You see, gardening has always been my HEA. It may have taken me a while to realize it, but in the garden is where I was always supposed to be. It's the smell of my family, where I learned my work ethic, my trust in the process, and my patience. (Still working on that one). It's the positive impact my family has left on the community.
Gardening is friendship, connection, and support. It's my love language; growing food and watching my husband and son enjoy tomatoes right off the vine, sticky juice, and seeds running down their chins while they grin with pleasure. That is my joy, my love, and my security. It's a love affair that has its ups and downs but will forever be planted within me.
So, let's raise a glass of compost tea (no, you don't drink it) on Nation Gardening Day and to all my fellow green thumbs out there!
Some of my favorite garden must haves:
Coast of Maine Raised Bed Potting Soil Mix
