A garden by any other name is still a pain …

Outdoors in Alaska, by Howard Delo

Well, the king salmon season has closed. I'm hearing that a few silvers are starting to show up in Valley rivers, but the main run is yet to develop. My wife and I usually don't get too excited about chasing coho until a little later in the month.

This next week to 10 days is the traditional lull between our fishing efforts to put "meat" in the freezer. This is the time when I review my "honey-do" list and try to figure out enough excuses to weasel out of doing the really hard and distasteful stuff for another year.

Now, I should clarify the "honey-do" statement. In fairness to my wife, she rarely asks me to do much around the house. She figures I should be smart enough to figure out that if the outside window trim is falling off, for instance, I might want to try and reattach it before the whole window falls out. Usually, I do. There are times, though, when she can't stand it any longer and feels the need to mention some simple task needing attention.

When we first moved into our home, my wife had several loads of topsoil delivered so she could have a garden. Our lot is basically a flat gravel pit, so the rich dark soil was a major improvement. She spread the soil by hand, using only a shovel and rake. She planted the seeds, watered the plants and weeded the rows. She did all this while working full-time and attending Mat-Su College pursuing a degree.

I was commuting to Anchorage, so my day was filled with the commute and the job. We both were pretty busy, yet she still found time to work in her garden. During the years, we added a greenhouse. I did the majority of building, but she helped where four hands were better than two.

Now, in addition to the garden, she also had a greenhouse to tend. I was still commuting. You might also remember my excuse of having "brown thumbs" when it came to tending plants. If you want the plant to die, just ask me to take care of it. Fish don't fear me but plants do!

Anyway, we both were busy and as time passed, a combination of work and some health problems interfered with my wife's ability to have a garden every year. Finally, she just gave up. The garden sat for several years and the surrounding wild vegetation began its inevitable encroachment into the rich soil.

After I retired, my wife suggested that I now had the time to help with the garden. She was still working full-time. Each spring I managed to weasel out, finding some lame excuse to justify my distaste of weeding.

Finally, she could stand it no longer. "Honey, if you would just clear the garden, we could have some fresh vegetables this year," she tactfully commented again this past spring. Since I was already in a jam for being a really lousy housekeeper, I figured I'd better make an effort.

I got a Roto-tiller that could till concrete and took the chain saw out to clear the towering cottonwoods that had invaded the garden area. The skidder I used to drag out the logs helped churn up the soil so the Roto-tiller could get a toehold. I recreated her garden in the midst of a tangled jungle of vegetation.

We're not going to have a bumper crop this year, but the radishes are doing quite well. My next step is to break out the herbicide to kill off the weeds that seem to grow better than the vegetables.

I figured I'd better make an effort on the garden; otherwise she might remind me the house needs repainting!

Howard Delo is a retired fisheries biologist living in Big Lake.