In 2019, if you had given me a list of common hobbies that people developed when the world was trapped inside to try and stay the advance of a pandemic I would not have been able to guess what mine would be. My previous experience with Animal Crossing had forced me to face an ugly side of myself when I drove a villager I didn’t like the aesthetic of out of town. It was weirder still was when I started to get really into gardening. The inciting incident of this journey itself leads to a story involving my need to grow tea plants in Toronto[1] — but that’s going to be another blog post.
Starting a garden was never a natural fit for me. Being aware that the sun exists is enough to give me a sunburn, and getting dirt on my hands[2] makes my teeth itch. When left to my own devices, I drift fully nocturnal. While I’m happy to share the planet with various ‘creatures’ but I really need them to respect my personal space which they (rudely) never do[3]. No part of my soul has ever cried out to rejoin nature, and in general I think outside should stay as far away from me as possible.
The only other time I’d given gardening a chance was when my age was in the single digits. A lovely lady at the end of my street has a morning(!) event on the weekend where she tried to awaken the spirit of Gaia in all of the kids in the neighbourhood. The program was called SLUGs (Special Little Uxbridge Gardeners, naturally) which had all the hallmarks of being a non-starter for me just by the name.
My main memory of this time was being given a little forget-me-not in a paper cup and transplanting it into my mother’s garden, heedless of the consequences. The specific consequence being the garden bed where I planted it getting taken over by the blue and green menace for a good decade. After this rousing success I retired at the top of my game. Not only had I grown a plant, but I had grown it so well my family would never be free from it.
For a long time I even harbored a bit of pride in my gardening incompetence. The early 2010s were a weird time to date in geek culture — but a common question that might come up on a first outing was ‘what is your plan for a zombie apocalypse?’ My answer was always ‘die as quickly as possible — I have no survival skills and running makes my lungs hurt.’ But lately I’ve had a bit of a change of heart — running still makes my lungs hurt but I can grow the most anemic carrot you’ve ever seen. Besides, I’m less worried about the hordes of the undead and more worried about the upcoming Water Wars nowadays.
Getting myself into the headspace for this kind of hobby hasn’t been easy. I’m not known for my resilience and plant catastrophes happen all the time. Plants die, they get sick, they get harassed by pests. Sometimes you don’t want to fertilize, water, or think about greenery but know if you skip too many days in a row the little accidents will start to snowball. While writing this post, I’ve been asking myself why I even bother at all given all the pathos drooping leaves have generated for me lately.
Ironic as it sounds given the current medium, but getting to take a break from my computer is a huge selling point. Both the novel, and my work as a developer involve a lot of screens. If that wasn’t enough, my primary hobby is video games, followed closely by going down extensive internet rabbit holes. I’m not the kind of person who wants to strap screens to her face, but I am one who probably should.
Gardening also gives time a sense of reality that it’s been lacking for me lately. Most of my work projects are self directed, and with lingering agoraphobia from the worst of the pandemic days has stopped feeling particularly distinct. Lately though, some days are highlighted as ‘the day I harvested all my blueberries’ or ‘the day I wept in Damian’s lap because my tea plants got sun scald’. Witnessing life cycles destroyed the weird sense of stasis I had been feeling.
It also impacts my moods — though, that’s a for-better, for-worse situation. Some people flag gardening as a peaceful, meditative joy — and maybe that’s true if you don’t suck at it. Unfortunately, I kinda do. I’m pretty good at growing cucumbers but spinach can fuck off. As a person who only grows things you can eat the reward system is built in. If I can successfully grow a strawberry that means I get to eat a strawberry. Usually, when I have a hobby if things get too hard I tend to silently quit but I find that hard when quitting means watching a plant melodramatically die in front of me.
But the piece I think has been most critical is that it gives me something to learn again. I didn’t realize how much I missed school until I found out my third-life-crisis was wondering if I should do a masters. Gardening doesn’t need to be wholesomely spreading seeds from your apron pocket, you can get really down and obsessed with nutrients, and lights. Hydroponics is a dream hobby for people who want to get really obsessed with learning everything about plants. And hence, why I’m back to blogging.
Writing this post posed a challenge as I have two (self imposed, not very strict) rules of blogging. The post should contain useful information and be under a thousand words. This reigns in the worst habits I have when I write — wordiness and gross self indulgence. I wanted to fit everything I’ve learned over the past three years into a single pithy post but even after cutting every bad joke I was still lapping my word count on every draft. So, fuck computers, this is a garden blog now, baby! (Until I tire myself out on the topic) This post is breaking the usefulness rule but I mostly wanted to write it as a bridge between good, normal, computer rambling and a brain dump about greenery.