A Garden of Hope

Gardening & Hope during the COVID-19 Pandemic

Originally published in the Spring, 2021 issue of Waggle Magazine.

Until last summer, I was a potted plants gardener. I loved buying a few flats of pretty blooms, filling my pots, and calling it a day. When we lived in California, that was all it took to have a beautiful, flourishing outdoor space. When we moved to Colorado almost four years ago, we bought a house with a larger yard and a garden -- however, making use of that space wasn’t a priority. 

But last summer, stuck at home like the rest of the country, I needed an obsession. I needed a connection to the greater world - even if it was just the greater world of our backyard. Not to mention: I was tired of looking at the sameness inside our house. 

So I began to garden. For real. Beyond potted plants. I started with the ancient raised beds -- relics of another gardener, another time. I shored them up, added soil, compost, vermiculite. I bought seeds and seedlings -- tomatoes, lettuce, carrots, zinnias, cosmos, nasturtiums -- starting small, nothing particularly challenging. 

Every evening I watered and watched and waited. It wasn’t a solitary activity. Our eight-year-old became my gardening partner, and we cherished watering the garden together. He learned each plant’s names and habits, celebrated each tiny cucumber and tomato, and rejoiced over each blossom. 

Over time living green emerged from the soil I had enriched, and soon the garden sprang to life, but it wasn’t just the plants. Butterflies came, flitting between the leaves. Birds gave morning concerts while I sipped my tea, and bees bumbled about the sunflowers and zucchini blossoms. Each evening as we ate outside, two rabbits would scoot under the fence looking for dinner. And one night in the gloaming, a pair of skunks wandered in followed by their five babies -- seven skunks only a few yards away. We watched fascinated while they wandered amongst the beds, cooly assessing the possibilities. 

Honestly, our garden didn’t yield all that much to eat -- the squirrels ate every strawberry, the cucumbers weren’t all that yummy. It turns out we don’t like summer squash much. But it fed our spirits; the garden gave us hope. And we gorged on that hope, slurping in the change our beautiful green patch offered.

The hours we spent tending and weeding and watching centered around life even in isolation, putting the death and disease around us into some perspective. While the number of illnesses and deaths from COVID-19 swelled - and continue to do so - caring for the tenderest plants tethered me to life, bolstering me for the tidal wave of grief beyond our fence.  

So here we are -- a year later. I have spent the last months planning for this summer’s garden. This summer promises to be another spent at home - not quite so fearful, but cautiously watching, waiting. And hoping. We will plant another garden of hope again this year. Hoping this solitude season will change. Waiting for our turn to get vaccinated. And we are tending to the needs of other living things -- not just ourselves. 

Angela K. Nickerson has a new pandemic memory project -- perfect for individuals and families to reflect on and create a record of the COVID-19 pandemic. Find the Stay at Home Club as well as DIY projects and so much more at MidModernMama.com.