Well it will soon be Spring and time for early spring gardening activities. Are you looking forward to the snow melting, the fresh warm breezes beginning to drift in, and those new green sprouts fighting their way to the surface?
I know I am. I am always excited to get outside, smell the fresh spring air, and use some of the pent up energy I acquired from months of being inside.
But wait. I am jumping ahead of myself. This article is about gardening in January and early spring.
One of the things I do at this time of year is get out the garden tools to clean and sharpen. A few hours spent cleaning, sharpening, and oiling will really pay off throughout the season.
Whenever I begin this project I am always anxious for my favorite garden tool, my Grandmas hoe, which I still use. It always reminds me of her and our times gardening together.
You can tell by looking at this artifact that it has spent what looks like a gazillion hours in the garden making rows, loosening dirt, and getting rid of weeds.
The handle is worn smooth like a river rock and is in fact thin in some spots. You can tell by looking at both the top and bottom ends it is a fraction of it’s original thickness. It is hard to calculate or even imagine how much time was spent with hands wrapped around the strong oak handle to have molded and shaped this masterpiece.
Maybe 50 years or 50 seasons. Enough time to provide thousands of salads, mason jars full of green beans and pickles, and gallon freezer bags packed full of tasty frozen sweet corn.
There is not much to do with the handle. It has been hardened, smoothed, and hand rubbed by the essence of human.
The blade is another thing. Through the many seasons of use and sharpening it has been reduced to a little less than half the original size. Other things that hoes do, like pry and dig rocks out, have left the edge crooked as a country road. Although half the size the steel is still strong and no weed is a match for her.
I usually weed with this hoe so it must have a pretty good sharp edge. Just a little touch on the grinder and that’s all she needs, a new fresh but crooked edge.. A little oil rub always makes her look better though still a little brown and keeps the rust at bay.
During the season when using my keepsake I can’t help but stroll down memory lane with visions of Grandma and her hoe. Scenes of her breaking clumps of freshly tilled ground in anticipation of stringing lines across the new dirt to make perfectly parallel rows come to mind.
I can still see her measuring and directing me where to place each stake. After placing each stake we string the long expanse, tighten, and tie with a slip knot. With hoe in hand we can now use the corner of her favorite tool blade to harrow the rows by dragging the edge along the dirt to form a nice straight V in the soil, place the seeds at the recommended distance, and then use the whole blade to rake dirt back over the seed.
. The smell of the freshly turned dirt is unique and pleasurably unforgettable. It seems to combine the feel of bitterness with the sweetness of plant material. Kind of like sweat mixed with perfume. Hard to describe but all you gardeners know what I am talking about.
Then there is a short waiting period before the old hoe and Grandma are back out removing those nasty weeds starting to sprout between the plants where the rototiller can’t go.
Grandma was just as sturdy as the weed killing instrument she held in her hands. Her muscular arms and stocky build kept her going for hours, row by row. The best times were in the early morning mist or almost dusk when temperatures are bearable.
It all reminds me of what I consider were better simpler times than what we have today. In these throw away times we live in, it is hard to imagine becoming attached to an instrument of labor.
Tools and the fruits of her gardening labor were meant to be preserved and appreciated. Things were not as easy to come by so they were appreciated that much more.
Although those days seemed harder physically, they were not stressful. There was not as much to do. Our days were not filled shopping on line or glued to our phones.
Time spent in the garden was good time and not rushed. It was not only productive but a great chance to reflect, innovate, and of course talk. Our senses were invigorated by the touch and smells of earth as we dug, sifted, and stirred her. Those smells would then rise up and mix with those of the early morning, midday, or afternoon air.
During and after there were rest breaks to recuperate and regenerate under the oasis of a nearby tree where we drank cool ice water or lemonade that felt like cool silk on our throats as we drank it down. Ahh. So refreshing. Nothing better than this refreshment, feeling of accomplishment, and shared time together to discuss things remembered for a lifetime.
So next time you are tempted to throw that old tool away. Don’t. Do what you can to preserve it. It has a story to tell. Once you discover that story pass it on to someone you care about. It will probably put a big smile on some gardener’s face for many years to come.
We hope you enjoyed this article. We have other articles and information on our unique automatic self watering irrigation drip system kits at watering-rocks.com. We hope you will visit us.
