Larry, I imagine taking out raised beds is even less fun than building them. That's a lot of work, but it will make lawn maintenance easier to accomplish.

My long-term plan is that we'll take out our raised beds ourselves when we get to the point that we cannot maintain a large garden any more, but our son likes gardening too....so, you never know.....he might want them to be left here for him.

I don't want to quit gardening, not ever, although someday either old age or poor health or both might force me to do so. My friend, Fred, is still gardening and ranching at 91, and if I were to be so lucky as to live that long, I hope I'll be just like him. He planned ahead for this.....back surgery, knee replacement, maybe hip replacement (all of his surgeries run together in my mind). At the time my mind didn't grasp that he was replacing all those "parts" so he could keep on keeping on for as long as possible.

I think that for as long as I still have all my marbles, I'll have a garden of some sort---even if it is just a handful of Earthboxes on the patio.

Dawn

Dawn, I don't mind the work of taking out the beds, but it is heartbreaking. I have my stepdad's tractor at my house, which is only 1/2 mile away. He would like to be on the tractor brush hogging, but he is very unstable on his feet and has fallen many times. The doctor has told him to stay off the tractor, and I feel like a heel for bringing it home with me. One reason I bought the little Kubota is that I knew I had these task ahead of me and his tractor is too large and not designed for this type of work.

Larry

Larry, I know it is heartbreaking. It breaks my heart every time I see someone doing it. When my dad's Alzheimer's Disease advanced to the point that he no longer gardened or even remembered what a garden was, someone (I think it was my sister's son and a friend of his) took out his raised veggie garden and disposed of all his gardening supplies. I could hardly bear to look at the bermuda grass growing in what used to be such a beautiful and productive garden, and to this day, when I look out the kitchen window at my mom's house, it kinda shocks me to see lawn where his garden used to be, even though he has been gone for just over 10 years now.

When we moved here, we met all our new neighbors while the house was still being built because we came up on weekends to clear brush, fence the property, etc. I called them the "old farmers/old ranchers" group, because that is what they were, but I meant it in a respectful way. Anyone who could make a living in this climate farming and ranching for 60, 70, 80 years or more is just a remarkable person because I know it wasn't easy. Most of them had kids (or grandkids) the same age that we were at the time we moved here. One by one, we've lost almost all of the old farmers and old ranchers. I guess there's 2 or 3 of them left here in our neighborhood, with Fred being the most senior, and I love seeing their gardens out there in the spring all green and lovely, because seeing the garden reminds me that they still are here, still alive and kicking, and still gardening. The hard part is looking at all the lawns that have taken back areas that once were gardened by the folks who lived at those places back then. Inevitably, for all those who are gone now, the beginning of the end was either when a horse bucked them off and they broke something (and then their kids "made" them give up working their cattle on horseback) or when they fell off their tractor (and then their kids "made" them park the tractor for good and give the keys to the kids). Now it is the children of those old farmers and old ranchers who are becoming our senior-most generation here, and most of them are a good 10-20 years older than Tim and I. Still, I realize one of these days we'll be the old folks, which is hard to swallow because it was a lot more fun to be the young folks soaking up all the wisdom than it will be to be the old ones who pause mid-sentence and try to search for the word that eludes them.

I miss the old-timers we've lost. I miss their stories, their wisdom, and even their tall tales. I smile when I think about them though, because we still have all the memories of them.

There is absolutely no reason for you to feel like a heel. You are a wonderful son and stepson (and father, grandfather, brother, brother-in-law, and more). To me, you are one of my gardening heroes even though we've never met in person. You take such good care of your loved ones. You have done so much of their gardening for them for so long now, and I've always admired so much that you have such a loving, giving heart that you were willing to plant and maintain not only one garden, but several gardens. There just comes a point (and you have reached that point now with your mom and stepdad) where it makes more sense to take out their garden and to, instead, share your garden produce with them. If you leave their garden there, your stepdad might be tempted to sneak out there to work in it occasionally (even though he knows he shouldn't) and he might fall and break a hip or lay there on the ground and get heatstroke or something....and so often, after that sort of a break or heat illness, it is all downhill from there, you know.

Remember, no feeling like a heel! You are doing what needs to be done and you are doing it out of love.

Dawn

Thanks, Dawn.

I second what Dawn said about not feeling like a heel. When I had to take Mother's keys away from her, I'm sure she felt like her independence had ended. But it is so important to be able to keep them safe as much as we can.

We will all get to that same stage so much quicker than we want to. For some reason, I have had that on my mind quite a bit lately. Could become really depressing if one doesn't watch it.