Your first memory of gardening?

Irma_StPete(z9 FL)March 1, 2014

Weeding on this beautiful day, I remembered a sunny day visiting in my aunt's house at age 4 or 5. I pulled up what I thought were weeds, by her walkway. She gently mentioned they had a name. Still, I was embarrassed. Now I have created my own yard that requires above all, my constant weeding and trimming.

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I was given the job to water my Grandmother's roses. They had celebrity names like Lincoln, Elizabeth Taylor, and John Kennedy and I thought I was taking care of some VIP's. I was about four at the time and she told me they were fed with bone and blood meal, I sure gave them respect after that. I didn't want them coming after me! I now know it's only fertilizer.

    Bookmark   March 1, 2014 at 2:40PM
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A volunteer sunflower was growing at the edge of the woods behind our house. I pointed it out to my mother and she picked it for me. I was horrified.

"Nooooooooooo!!!!!!! Let it grow!!!!"

I was maybe four or five?

    Bookmark   March 1, 2014 at 3:33PM
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I think it was my grandmother's strawberry patch in rural Alabama. She would go out with us when we were tiny to pick the ripe ones, which we would then eat with milk and sugar. Such good memories.

    Bookmark   March 1, 2014 at 7:41PM
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marcia_m(5 and 9)

My Mom planted four o'clocks near our front porch and I remember picking the seeds. I was probably 5 or 6. Good thing I didn't try to eat them!

    Bookmark   March 1, 2014 at 9:12PM
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garyfla_gw(10 Florida)

Remember my mother commenting on how beautiful the neighbors tulips were in the spring . So I dug up a bunch of them and gave them to my mother Guess I learned more about private property than gardening ?? lol gary

    Bookmark   March 2, 2014 at 3:15AM
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My very first recollection of a garden was when I was probably 3, we lived in a very old Mediteranian style apartment building with a large courtyard in the back. The landlords lived there and the woman grew a flower garden in it. I remember looking at the colorful flowers and wanting to grab them and the lady taught me to hold my hands behind my back and lean over to only smell them. My first attempt at growing something was when my mom gave me a few dried pinto beans and told me to plant them in the ground. I was amazed that they sprouted and grew. She also gave me some popcorn kernels and I did the same thing. When we had our first real yard, I was around 7 and mom taught me the names of all the bushes she planted. Most of them she knew by the Latin names. When anyone came to the house she would have me name them and they would all be amazed.

    Bookmark   March 2, 2014 at 9:56AM
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Growing up on a farm in rural New Hampshire with animals & vegetables the first thing I learned is not to step in the cow pies and track it into the house.... It makes your butt red from the beating.


    Bookmark   March 2, 2014 at 11:42AM
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Do not know how old I was but very young Maybe two even
My Mom and dad took me to visit Dad's landlady. At the home he had lived in before being married to Mom. I ibnow my brother was not born yet and he is about two and a half years younger than I.

All that I remember of this day is of course "daddy" but the plant Bleeding Heart. I remember picking two or three of the little hearts and thought they where just so exquisite. Well that is not what a little kid would think but I remember it yet

    Bookmark   March 3, 2014 at 5:09PM
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Maybe 5 years old watching my mother pace off a new garden plot at a rental house. I don't think it amounted to a lot, but a year or two later at another place there was very good soil, western CT, they had some good vegetable gardens there.

    Bookmark   March 3, 2014 at 5:33PM
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When I was a tyke, my grandfather lived in our backyard and had a greenhouse. He taught me how to plant the little seeds in rows in flats. His theory was that my little four, five or six year old fingers could do a better job of planting than his old stubs. That greenhouse had a kerosene heater mostly buried in the ground in the middle. During cold Long Island winter days, that greenhouse was my refuge - sun and heat. I can never forget the pleasant earthy smells of that greenhouse. Now and then, that smell hits me. Nice! During those times, he told me lots of Irish immigrant stories. As the weather got better, we transplanted the tiny seedlings to larger flats and put them in his many cold-frames.
Thank you Irma, for bringing back these sweet memories of my favorite buddy back then. Now, living in Florida, I don't need a greenhouse.

    Bookmark   March 3, 2014 at 5:59PM
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Such innocents we all were! Love these--hope more people share.

When I was 5 or so we moved in next to an old lady who had a garden in her backyard. I don't remember anything about that garden except what I was sure was a single bright red rose bloom that appeared right near the short wire fence between our properties. One day, outside without my sister, I had to get closer to the flower. I don't know whether I actually wanted to pick it or not, but I had to really see it. I found myself at the fence, where I leaned over and reached out carefully--not realizing the flower didn't seem so special for no reason--only to snatch my hand back when the old lady appeared at her back screen door to yell at me to stay out of her garden. It was the only time I can remember seeing that lady, and the only time I can remember seeing that rose. We didn't live there long, though. Later on I learned the story of Beauty and the Beast. Guess who the beauty and beast were in my young memory?

In all fairness, she was just trying to save her only rose from the threat of certain destruction I posed...

This post was edited by lovesblooms on Mon, Mar 3, 14 at 18:26

    Bookmark   March 3, 2014 at 6:04PM
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What wonderful stories! Seems a lot of our memories of gardening happen around the same age.
I was three when we lived in southern Alabama. We were a military family and not really from anywhere and never had a house of our own. My mom planted a garden in the backyard of our house on base. I don't remember what she planted, but I loved it back there.
My mom was a bit of a hippie, having been raised by an Austrian mother who was very Old World. I distinctly remember my grandmother climbing the foothills of the Alps, looking for herbs, mushrooms, and wild berries. What seemed so mundane to me back then is now extraordinary.

    Bookmark   March 4, 2014 at 1:13PM
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