From: jane@latcs1.lat.oz.au (Jane Philcox)
Newsgroups: misc.kids
Subject: Gardening with Kids (long)
Date: 14 Apr 92 05:59:17 GMT
Organization: Comp Sci, La Trobe Uni, Australia



Hi people,

In the process of tidying up this week, I found an old newspaper kicking around 
in the study.  I was about to throw it out, when I spotted the headline, read 
it, and laughed till I cried.  I thought you all might like it too.

Regards, Jane.

_________________________________________>8__________________________________
"The Age", Melbourne, Australia.  Tuesday 17 September 1988

How to garden with lots of little helpers
By Kerry Cue

[Accompanied by a cartoon of a terrified daisy being pulled out 
by the roots, while being kissed by a child.]

I love to read about gardening.  When to plant.  How to raise 
garden beds, add loam, fertilise, propagate.  But at our place 
gardening theory has been trampled flat by various trundle toys, 
tricycles, wayward rollerskates and dissident footballers.  For 
ours is a family garden.  And anyone who has had flowers picked 
from their garden by the karate method knows just how hardy a 
"hardy" plant has to be to survive a family's affection.

To illustrate the great variation between the theory and practice 
of gardening, I will explain the standard method of planting 
seedlings, family-style.

_The_textbook_method_ is simple.  You go down to the nursery.  
You buy the appropriate punnets.  You prepare the soil, plant the 
seedlings, water them in and lay snail bait.

_The_family_method_ is a little more complex.  As you walk 
into the nursery one child climbs into a $200 terracotta pot, 
while the other takes a nose dive out of the trolley into the mud.  
You pluck the one out of the mud, order the other down from the 
fence, return the five garden gnomes that have mysteriously 
appeared in the trolley, grab the nearest seedlings and move 
through the cash register before the eldest child has a chance to 
set off all the Venus fly traps.

_Three_weeks_later_ you are still watering the seedlings in the 
punnet and wondering when you will get a chance to plant them.  
In the meantime snails have consumed a quarter of the plants (I 
think this is most unsporting, they could at least wait until the 
seedlings are in the garden), while several of the seedlings 
appear to have measles.  (Sorry.  I'm a mother.  If it's spots, it's 
measles.)

_Preparing_the_soil:_  The flower bed preparation is somewhat 
hampered as the resident spade is still held together by 
insulation tape and you have forgotten the manure.  You dare not 
return to the nursery in case you are recognised as the mother of 
the child who knocked the $40 ornamental cumquat on to the 
bonsai display.  You use lawn fertiliser and a spade from the sand 
pit.

While digging over the bed one child sits eating the dirt (my 
youngest enjoys a lightly turned loam), while another child 
throws clumps of earth at passing cars ("Stop that!") and his 
mother ("Stop th.. cough..splutter!..."  "Sorry Mum...heh!...heh!").  But 
you wish to encourage their enthusiasm for gardening.  
Fortunately most of the enthusiasm does come out in the wash.

_Watering_the_garden_bed:_  The watering stage is the time 
when parents find themselves surrounded by eager volunteers 
yelling "I'll do it".  Watering usually involves two stages.

The first stage is the water cannon drama when an over-eager 
volunteer turns the tap on full bore.  The rocketing water nearly 
removes a couple of tiles from the neighbor's roof; it blasts 
through the front door which someone left open; it gouges out 
several canyons in the front lawn before finally snaking out of 
control and drenching the entire family.

Two hours later, when the family has finally changed into dry 
clothes, had lunch and generally recovered, the second stage of 
the drama unfolds.  Wisely, the hose is set from the outset at a 
fine spray.   Fine sprays bring out an urge in children to dance.  
They dance -- fully clothed -- under the rainbowed mist.  In this 
way you manage to water the concrete paths, water the baby 
("But it will help her grow!"), water the car (which has just been 
washed) and/or water the clothes on the line (if planting in that 
area).  At this stage the garden bed hasn't actually been watered, 
but progress is being made.  As various little bodies start 
shivering and mumbling "I'm c..c..cold", you send them in to 
change clothes (yet again) and grab the hose.  You water the bed 
well, then leave on vacation.

_Three_weeks_later:_  By this time the garden bed has been 
watered by natural causes and as various weeds are thriving it 
seems a good time to plant.  Several seedlings have already 
flowered in the punnet, but these can be ignored.

By leaving the television on one morning you manage to race 
outside and plant the seedlings in all of three minutes and 25 
seconds.  At the end of the first cartoon at least one pyjama-
clad body will appear at the door and sob "But I wanted help".  So 
you dig up the seedlings (yes, I have done this) and start again.  
Two-and-a-half hours later, with Coco Pops [breakfast cereal] 
spread across the kitchen floor and the phone off the hook, the 
seedlings are in place.  You water them in and spread snail bait 
out of reach of the resident earth-eaters.

_Next_day:_  While inspecting the seedlings a younger member of 
the family bursts into hysterical sobs crying "You're a murderer, 
Mummy.  You've murdered all my pet snails".  You may be glad that 
you are raising a sensitive and caring child, but you try to 
explain that this is justifiable insecticide.  You explain that the 
snails were old and on their last legs (last slime?).  Finally, you 
explain that you believe in "involuntary snail euthanasia".  (It 
worked for me.)

_Two_weeks_later_--_weeding:_  You spend an afternoon saying 
"Yes, that's a weed.  No, that's not a weed.  No.  No.  NO!  Well, put 
it back".  You may find that an enthusiastic child has weeded out 
all the seedlings.  But they can be replanted.

_Protecting_from_spouse,_minors_and_pets:_  The good thing 
about the family garden is that mildew and pests do relatively 
little damage, compared to the rest of the family.  First, the 
family pet will undoubtedly attempt to bury dead things in the 
garden bed as this is the only patch of the garden in which it can 
actually get a paw-hold.  Pets can be dissuaded with a broom, but 
this does not work for one's spouse.  Spouses tend to upset 
garden beds by dumping the hose and standing on top of them 
while washing the car.  An appropriate look of horror and 
outrage, however, can keep the spouse off the garden.  Finally, 
the junior engineer of the family will undoubtedly excavate the 
entire garden bed with Matchbox bulldozers.  This is to be 
encouraged [assuming the garden bed is not next to the house], as 
any misplaced enthusiasm seriously undermines the foundations 
of the house.

_Eight_weeks_later:_  A dimpled cherub stands in the kitchen 
saying "Here is a flower for you Mummy" as it hands over the 
first decapitated, stemless flower produced by the garden bed.  
You kiss the upturned nose and float the flower in a saucer.

_Finally_-- you won't believe this -- but after about 10 weeks 
of trauma and deprivation the seedlings actually bloom.  I'm not 
sure how it works, but the garden bed is a joy to behold and a 
mystery forever.
-- 
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ABSURDITY: A statement or belief manifestly inconsistent with one's own opinion
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From: olney@hpnmdla.sr.hp.com (Doug Olney)
Date: Mon, 13 Apr 1992 20:37:08 GMT
Subject: Cute Things They Do
Organization: HP Network Measurements Div, Santa Rosa, CA