Gardening has always been a part of my life.
As a little girl, I watched my mom plant petunias in pots on our deck and harvest zucchini from our community garden plot (while I made doll clothes out of leaves and pretend salads out of flowers and weeds).
As a teen, I’d help plant lettuce seed and harvest tomatoes in our backyard garden. Mom cooked and canned, made pies and jellies and shredded zucchini into never-ending mini-loaves of zucchini bread shared with family and neighbors.
My mom has similar memories of watching her mother and grandmother work in the garden, becoming a gardener from the inside out. Her dad, my grandpa Leroy, was a gardener, too, tending his beloved roses well into his 70s.
Gardening doesn’t feel like a hobby to me so much as a way of life, something that seeps into each day in some small or big way: the view of the pin oaks from the back window as I practice morning yoga, snips of kale and thyme leaves to flavor soup stock, sharing the water in my glass with a favorite Cordyline house plant.
Plants feed our bodies and our souls. Here are a few of the many blessings from my garden:
Red chairs and the energy of youth: With the enthusiasm (and the strong back) of youth, my son Ian decided to build a fire circle in our backyard this summer.
In just a day, he excavated the soil and laid a circle of stone to create the perfect backyard gathering space. When he finished, we jumped in the car to find inexpensive plastic Adirondack chairs to complete the circle.
The red chairs beckon through my kitchen window, catching the eye even when there’s no time for marshmallows.
Garden surprises — leafcutting bees: While filling a Mason jar with water at a seldom-used water spigot on the side of my house back in August, I had a happy surprise from a leafcutting bee. Nothing came out of the faucet at first, until a burst of water spit into my jar, along with several carefully constructed leaf tubes from a leafcutting bee.
The mother bee found my unused spigot the perfect size to create a nest for her eggs. Her offspring had matured and left their happy home in my water spout. The nest was made up of carefully cut discs from oakleaf hydrangea petals and soft garden leaves.
Dandelions: Yes, I give thanks for dandelions.
These ubiquitous flowers offer something few other plants do: an early pollen source that bees need at a key time to feed their offspring.
‘Autumn Cascade’ weeping black gum: Looking out my living room window this October, I enjoyed the magnificent orange display of ‘Autumn Cascade,’ purchased a few years back at Secrest Arboretum’s plant sale. For days the western view was vibrant orange leaves framed by a pink setting sun.
Pine needles for mulch: I don’t have enough pine trees to use the needles for mulch, but some of my neighbors do. I happily gather their bags of raked needles to spread in my beds.
Plants from favorite public gardens: I love to walk through my garden and think of the places I’ve been.
This year I added a witch hazel from Dawes Arboretum in Newark, an elderberry from Kingwood Center in Mansfield and serviceberries from Secrest Arboretum in Wooster.
Blue vervain (Verbena hastata): This lovely native perennial has become a favorite plant because of its attractiveness to pollinators.
For weeks in summer, this plant’s spikes of tiny purple flowers are visited by leafcutting bees, bumble bees, carder bees and sweat bees — all eager to drink the flower’s nectar.
Blue vervain easily reseeds, but doesn’t become overly aggressive in the sunny garden.
Begonias in pots: Dragon wing begonias have become my simple solution to summer-long annual color in pots on my porch and deck.
These tough, undemanding plants spill over the sides of their containers, lush with pink flowers from the last spring frost clear through October.
Fruit for breakfast: This was a wonderful year for fruit in my garden.
Almost every summer breakfast began with some combination of strawberries, blueberries, red currants, blackberries or raspberries. Extras went into jam that will brighten our breakfasts through winter.
Bulbs to lighten the winter load: I’m often tired of gardening by the time autumn arrives, but I always plant bulbs. By the time March arrives, I’m never sorry to have spent the time or money on tulips and alliums (it’s not too late!).
Friends in the garden: Even though I usually garden alone, my friends are all around me: hostas from Joni’s garden, Gerry’s daisies in late summer, Lynn’s ornamental hawkweed that only she and I would appreciate and Pat’s primroses that bloom season after season, though Pat’s woodland garden is now just a memory.
The view from the hill: It’s a simple place: two chairs under the pin oak branches, Ringo the golden retriever resting in the grass, and a view of the backyard. Even if it’s for just a few minutes, my husband and I sit together in the shade to appreciate what we’ve tended.
Roses to sleep by: It’s a game I play at night when I can’t sleep.
Some people may count sheep, but I count roses. I take a virtual tour of the roses in my garden, recounting the names and origin of each. I rarely make it to the ‘Madame Plantier’ on the arbor (rose number 22) before sleep returns.
Oaks for the future: I grew up in the shadow of oaks, towering white and red giants in the Laurel Highlands of Pennsylvania, so oaks have always held special meaning to me.
This year, I added small chinkapin, white and burr oak saplings to our landscape. The trees are not for me, but for some child in the future who may grow up knowing and loving those oaks. What better legacy?
Denise Ellsworth directs the honeybee and native pollinator education program for the Ohio State University. If you have questions about caring for your garden, contact her at 330-263-3700 or click on the Ask Denise link on her blog at www.osugarden.com.