The Garden 23

I had to pay for college somehow, so when a job at the hardware store came up, I took it. I liked that kind of stuff anyway and figured it would be a good way to learn useful things. I was a chemistry major, but all that was going to get me was a job. I wanted something that would teach me useful things, like how to fix a toilet.

I went to my job after school and on weekends. It wasn't hard work, but a lot of times customers would ask me questions I couldn't answer. They'd be looking for a particular kind of bolt I never heard of or parts for a faucet I didn't know. That's when I would have to ask one of the old guys. Lou was okay, but Jack always tried to make me feel like I was stupid. It took me a while to figure out he was doing to me what I was unconsciously doing to him. He never went to college and some punk kid who was going to become a chemist made him feel inferior. So he responded in kind. Once I figured that out, talking to Jack wasn't so bad. I still didn't like it, but at least I knew I wasn't stupid like he tried to make me believe. There were things he knew that I didn't, but everybody knows stuff that other people don't know. That doesn't mean anyone is stupid.

I was helping out customers one Saturday when this young girl came in. She was looking up and down the aisles, clearly not finding what she needed.

"Hi," I said. "What can I help you find?" She looked up at me, noticed the jacket that identified me as a store employee, and smiled.

"My dad sent me to get some torch gas," she said. "I think I remember what it looks like, but I'm not sure."

"Ah," I said, happy someone finally asked me a question I could answer, "it's over here." I took her over two aisles and pointed to the tanks we had. "Does he need propane or MAPP?"

"What's the difference?" she asked.

"Well, MAPP burns hotter than propane. Propane is fine for lead solder, for example, but silver solder is now required for plumbing, and propane isn't really hot enough to work well for that. If he's sweating some joints, he'll probably need MAPP."

"Sweating?" she asked, a frown on her face.

"That's when you put two pieces of pipe together and join them," I said. "Like if you put a pipe into an elbow. You put some flux on the joint, then heat it up. You touch a solder wire to the joint on the opposite side of the flame. Once the solder melts, you take the flame away and run the solder wire around the edge of the joint. The solder will wick inside. Voila, you have a joint. Doesn't your father teach you these things?"

"No," she smiled, "he thinks I'm a girl who doesn't need to know these things."

I frowned. "Everyone needs to know these things," I insisted. "Even if you never do them, you need to know how they are done right so, when you hire someone, you can watch to make sure you're getting a good job. Knowledge is power." I smiled at her and got a shy smile in return.

"I think I'll take the MAPP gas, then," she said. "Thanks for your help." I watched her as she walked over to the cashier. She sure looked nice to me. But I was a college kid; every girl looked nice.

A few weeks later, that girl showed up again. She came straight to me and asked, "Can you tell me where denatured alcohol is?"

"Sure," I said. "It's right over here, next to the painting equipment. That's where we keep all the solvents."

"Why is it called denatured?" she asked.

I smiled. This was right in my wheelhouse. "It's been poisoned."

"What?!" she exclaimed.

I laughed. "Pure ethyl alcohol is also known as grain alcohol. It's dirt cheap to make, so you can buy a gallon of it for not a lot of money. You can also drink it; it's what vodka is made from. The government taxes drinking alcohol a lot and they don't want you buying grain alcohol at the hardware store and not paying taxes for your buzz. So the government forces the manufacturer to put poison in the alcohol so you won't drink it. Most manufacturers use methyl alcohol, otherwise known as wood alcohol. Drink too much of that and you get a headache, go blind, or die. So make sure you pay your taxes."

She looked at me, a bit surprised. "You seem to know a lot about alcohol," she said.

"Well, I know about chemicals in general. I'm a chemistry major at the university."

"Really?" she said. "I go there, too. I'm a business major."

"Ah, that's why I haven't seen you. We chemists don't mingle with south campus people much." I paused. "I can see that is a mistake."

She looked down and smiled. "Well," she said, "if you ever lower yourself to visit, look me up. I'm Annie Lawson."

"John," I smiled as I shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

And that's how I met Annie. It took me a while to find her at school, but I did. I started dating her and tried to impress her with my vast knowledge. Or maybe it was half vast knowledge. In any case, she pretended to listen intently, but I think she was just doing that to stoke my ego. It worked.

We had fun together, doing the things you can do while you're in college. We went to movies, of course, but we also checked out the local playhouses, the ones where you could get a seat for practically nothing. We saw some really good stuff. Sometimes we would have a picnic out in a clearing in the forest, just the two of us. We did some things there that we wouldn't dare do in a more public place.

Annie always seemed to have something fun in mind and she brought me out of my shell. I had a tendency to work in the lab all the time, or shut myself in a room and study. Annie said it was important to have a balance in life; at least, that's what her father told her. She said you can't do only one thing, like work. You have to explore, too, and have fun with friends. And have fun with girlfriends. She was definitely right about that.

Once I graduated, I got a job with a small company making cosmetics. She ended up at a big aerospace company, working with engineers. We still saw each other, but the movies, plays, and picnics became rarer. We got so busy we hardly saw each other. One day, I decided I had had enough.

"Annie," I said, "we don't go out like we used to. We don't see as much of each other like when we were in college. This sucks. I want to change that. I want to see you every day. I want to see you when I wake up in the morning and just before I fall asleep at night. Annie, will you marry me?"

I don't think she saw this coming. The surprise on her face was precious. I was pretty sure I knew what the answer would be, but you never know. Well, you don't know until she looks in your eyes and grabs your soul. Then you know.

"How many 'yeses' do you need?" she asked.

"One big one will be sufficient," I smiled.

"YES!" she screamed. "Big enough for you?"

"Yes," I smiled, and I gave her a kiss and a hug. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for everything."

The wedding wasn't big, but it was wonderful. I'm not big on weddings, but Annie planned this out perfectly. We had a small group of friends and made it a party, just like weddings are supposed to be. We didn't spend a lot of money because we were saving up for a house, but we got a lot of cool memories. At the end of it, we were exhausted, almost to the point of not being able to finish the ceremony. But we managed that, too.

After a short honeymoon, it was back to work. Now, though, I got to see Annie every morning and every night. We saved our money until we could put a down payment on a house. Her parents helped a bit, but it was mostly us. Between our two jobs, we didn't have too much trouble qualifying for a loan. We looked at many houses, trying to find one in our price range. We ended up with a little house in an older neighborhood. It was nice. Small but cozy, with families nearby. We settled in. It was comfortable, sitting on the porch with a glass of champagne, watching the world go by, or having a dinner by candlelight, one we slaved over for hours just to eat in minutes. In the evening, or sometimes Sunday morning, we would make love. When I held her in my arms, all was right with the world. She fit my body perfectly, and if she didn't, there was something wrong with me, not her.

One summer evening, as we sat on the porch and watched the fireflies do their mating dance, I asked Annie, "Where are we going, Annie? And what will we do when we get there?"

She smiled at me. "That's simple," she said. "We'll go wherever life takes us and do what we want."

"But what if we don't like where life takes us?" I asked.

She grinned. "You'll be with me. How can you not like that?" I couldn't find a flaw in her logic.

"I love you, Annie," I said. "I have no idea why you married me."

"Well," she smiled, "if you hadn't known your stuff at the hardware store, I wouldn't have given you a second glance."

She caressed my face, gave me a deep kiss, and said, "I love you, too."

After a while, work got even more hectic and we both spent more time at the company than we did at home. It was taking a toll. By the time the weekend rolled around, we were both exhausted and got into the habit of collapsing on the couch and watching TV. I enjoyed cooking, being a chemist, but we did less and less of it. Annie saw this as the problem it was. And she had a solution. She said we should start a garden.

I don't really like gardening that much, but when Annie suggested we start growing our own vegetables, I responded the way any sane husband would, with a wimpy "Yes, dear." There was a community garden nearby, one that Annie had been looking at for quite a while. She passed it everyday on her way to work and she starting getting ideas. This is always dangerous.

"Wouldn't it be nice," she said, "if we could get fresh food, food that actually tasted good, not like that stuff we buy in the grocery stores?"

"Sure," I said, "that would be great." I inwardly rolled my eyes, knowing that a physical roll of the eyes would lead to punishment, possibly severe.

She caught my lack of enthusiasm. "I'm serious," she said. "It would be great to be outside, tending little plants that would eventually give us tomatoes that tasted like tomatoes, not the cardboard we have been getting. It's good exercise, and the sun and fresh air will do us good." I had no choice but to go along.

We went to the garden and met with the local organizer, Janice. She was a stout lady, somewhere in her late fifties, I guessed, with blond hair that was trying to turn grey and piercing eyes that brooked no dissent. She shook our hands and welcomed us. "I'm a volunteer, like everyone else," Janice says, "so if you don't like what I'm doing, you get your money back and you can take over." She smiled.

"You're doing a great job," I deadpanned.

"Good, glad we got that out of the way," Janice said. "Over here," she said, walking to a large patch of soil filled with a variety of plants, "we have the garden. We have tomatoes, of course, but we also have peppers, carrots, onions, garlic, and tons of herbs. It doesn't look like much yet, because we just planted, but in the next few months, it will be overflowing with bounty. Unless we kill everything." Janice raised an eyebrow. "You're not planning on killing anything, are you?"

I took that to mean me. "No, I assure you, I have no such intentions. Accidentally, though..." I said.

She laughed. "Don't worry, we'll show you what to do."

"We meet every Saturday at nine o'clock in the morning," Janice said. "Whoever shows up gets assignments, usually from me. We'll stake the plants that need it, water, and do the dreaded weeding. We'll spray when we need to, but we try to limit that. Any questions?" Annie and I shook our heads. "Okay," Janice said, "let's get to work. We'll start off with the dreaded weeding. Everything else after that will be a piece of cake."

We grabbed some tools and started in earnest. Because everything was new, it didn't seem like drudgery, yet. We met Julie, Lou, Stacy, and Carol. Lou was a drag along, like me, but he took it in good humor. The women were clearly into this gardening thing, chatting about how great it will be to cook with something that tasted good. I think they may have been ignoring the realities, however. There's a reason not everyone is a farmer. But we all pitched in, driven by the hopes of something glorious at the end of the season.

I set about attacking the weeds with a hoe. There were quite a few of them and I took it as my solemn duty to rid the garden of every one of them. I had made quite a bit of progress when Janice came by. "Got something against tomatoes?" she asked.

"No, not at all. I rather like them," I said.

"I'm surprised," she said. "I figured, since you're ripping them out of the ground with abandon, that maybe you didn't care for them."

"Huh," was my witty retort.

"Not everything that's green is a weed, Mr. Appleseed," she said, smiling. "It's helpful to make the distinction between what will bear food and what simply gobbles up nutrients. Here, let me show you." She pointed to a variety of weeds, naming them, and then showed me what young 'good' plants looked like. She suggested I use more caution in the future. I did my best.

And so our gardening adventure began. We showed up every Saturday, ready for the week's exercise. The days got longer and the air got warmer, good for the plants but tough on us. I noticed the group that showed up got smaller as the temperature rose. Janice was visibly annoyed. "This happens every year," she said to me one day. "Everyone is gung ho at the beginning, planting like there's no tomorrow, but when summer rolls around and the heat and humidity both approach 95, they all stay away in droves." She glanced at me and added quickly, "Not you and Annie, of course. You're the dependable people."

"All due to Annie," I said. "If I had my choice, I'd be getting rid of a beer right now."

Janice smiled. "Sounds good to me. Work first, though."

The summer was tough. It was hot that year and the gardening took on a back-breaking quality. We still had visions of lovely fruits and vegetables, but it was rapidly getting to the point where no fruits or vegetables could possibly be worth the effort. But, at Annie's insistence, I persevered. Janice noticed and thanked us for our work. "You know," Janice said, "the crowds will come back. Right about harvest time." Sure enough, when it was time to harvest, we had the full group again.

The harvest was a bit of a disappointment. We had visions of glorious vegetables, but when we pulled up the onions and garlic, we were stunned to see these misshapen lumps of food. "It's not like in the store, is it?" Janice pointed out. We shook our heads. "There's a reason the food looks so nice in the store," she said. "There's also a reason it doesn't taste so good. People have gotten used to perfect-looking vegetables and the stores have learned there's no point in putting out anything even slightly deformed; it won't sell. Tomatoes, in particular, have been bred to travel well, so they look great on the store shelves, even after traveling hundreds of miles in a big truck. They taste like crap, but people have forgotten what real food tastes like. It's a shame, really. Here, try this," she said, as she pulled off a cherry tomato and gave it to me. I bit into the tomato and was rewarded with a burst of flavor and sweetness I don't think I had ever gotten from a tomato before.

"Oh, my," I said, "that is nothing short of awesome."

Before you knew it, the whole group was pulling tomatoes from their homes and popping them into their mouths, making the sort of faces good food encourages. Perhaps it was worth the effort after all.

We divided up the spoils and carted our rewards home. Annie and I figured out pretty quickly that much of it was going to spoil. The garlic and onions would keep for a while, and the herbs could stay in the garden until we needed them, but the tomatoes and peas would have to be eaten soon or they'd rot. We made a lot of pasta sauce, had salads overflowing with tomato slices, and got sick of pea soup. It all tasted good, but it was too much all at once. To be expected, if I had thought things out.

During the winter, there wasn't much to be done to the garden. There were a few winter vegetables, but the weather was pretty harsh and they didn't do well. And, of course, the work party was pretty small as the weather got worse. On one nasty day, Janice sidled up to me and said, "This isn't going to work. Since it's all one big garden, everyone owns everything, which means no one owns anything. People pull away, assuming someone else will do the work. We're going to have to try something else."

I laughed. "Yeah," I said, "when the Pilgrims first came to this country, they had a food bin, with everyone putting in what they grew and everyone taking out what they needed. They almost starved to death. They eventually figured out it was best to let everyone keep what he grows and trade for what he needed. They did much better after that."

Janice sighed. "I guess that's what we'll need to do. I was hoping people would get into the community thing, but perhaps that's not human nature."

The next spring, when the work party first met, Janice put the new plan into place. "Hi, everyone," she said. "We going to try something different this year, something I think you'll all like." She looked at me and winked. "This year, we're going to give each of you your own plot. You won't have to tend to everything and you can plant only the things you want to grow. If you have some extra, you might be able to trade with someone else who has more than he needs. Sound like a plan?" Everyone nodded and murmured, apparently not realizing this meant more work for almost everyone. It was great for Annie and me, since it meant we wouldn't have to make up for everyone else's laziness. "Okay," Janice said, "let's mark out the plots and get to work."

Annie and I got a nice plot close to the gate. It may have been because we worked hard the previous year and helped Janice with all sorts of other stuff. Whatever the reason, we had prime real estate. We hoped we could benefit from it. First, we laid down the two by fours that delineated our plot. It wasn't a big area, but it was ours and we wanted to stake it out. We weeded, then amended and turned over the soil to get it ready for new plants. We planted the ever-popular tomatoes, then put in some cloves of garlic and some onions. We planted a few snap peas, stringing a lattice to hold the vines when they got big enough. Several parsley plants, thyme, rosemary, and some basil rounded everything out. A sprinkling of fertilizer and some water and we were off to the races.

Every weekend, we visited our budding plants, watching carefully for signs of insects or animals. Birds were a real problem, once the fruit and vegetables got to a certain size. It seems the animals don't mind unripe vegetables as much as we do, so they got first dibs. Screens helped keep them away, but they always managed to take a share of our stock. I guess feeding the local fauna was a decent thing to do, although I personally thought they should go on a diet. The squirrels, in particular, looked very well fed. Even so, we got enough from our garden to make it worthwhile. And Janice was right: the food really did taste better.

One afternoon, as we were hauling home yet another bag of tomatoes from the garden, I turned to Annie and said, "You know, this is something I wouldn't do for anyone else in the world."

She smiled and said, "I love you, too."

I was telling the truth, of course. There were many things I did, and most of them were things I did just because Annie wanted me to. I wouldn't do them for anyone else. Ever.

That evening, Annie seemed pretty tired. I asked her about it and she said, "I have to admit, this gardening is more work than I expected. I'm pretty beat by the end of the day. And I've lost some weight. It's a great exercise program."