Leonard Moorehead, The Urban Gardener: Sweet Memory

Sunday, May 21, 2017
Leonard Moorehead, GoLocalWorcester Gardening Expert

The most enduring sense is smell. We are hard wired to detect scent. A child recognizes mother’s scent and turns for nourishment. The link is established at birth and endures a lifetime. Many gardeners’ earliest horticultural knowledge needs only a name to isolate and confirm the identity of plants. Our urban lifestyles are far removed from our descent from tree to earth yet the ability to recognize plants around us starts with scent. All plants offer scent to child and beast alike. Pause, breath deep, and they are present, invisible yet evident, subtle and profound, like breath itself, essential to life. 

By his mother’s side a boy holds a sprig of small ivory white blooms on a square stem “this smells so good” came the words, eyes upward towards Mom. “Don’t put Lily of the Valley in your mouth.” The small hand stops in mid journey, a universe of trust is one of mothers’ qualities. “It smells good” nimble fingers hold on. “You may pick the flowers, pull them gently from the stem’s bottom, go ahead, you’re a strong boy, but do not eat. Not all that smells good is good to eat. Sniff the flowers, now you know not to taste them. Never put them in your mouth, they are poison.” Understanding isn’t always immediate. I stopped, already more interested in worms. “Pick more for Nana, they are her favorite flower, give them to her, it’s her birthday.” Nana lived next door and read Wee Wisdom to me. Birthdays already meant cake and ice cream, purely for celebration. Above us towering bushes bent under pungent white, another had pale bluish flowers. “Be careful” a remark I’d heard many times already, “break lilacs off the stem just before the main branch for Nana. She planted these flowers when I was a little girl”. 

I knew it immediately. My walk from tight parking up the hill past old houses strung along smoothed uneven cobblestones is usually fast paced. It wasn’t the STOP sign at the corner, nor the name, “Benefit Street” that made me pause. Left, right, no cars yet no movement. A deep breath and there it was. A back wash of time and economy left 18th century houses just as always, once humble now precious and beloved, the clapboard houses are close to the street.  Originally planted next to privies and mentioned as present in Oberon’s bower, careless lilacs bow over stone walls and fences. Beneath them, in partial shade and moist soil, a thick dark green carpet of Lily of the Valley. Another breath drawn far into the diaphragm brought a quiet smile. “My wife grieves, Sweet Susan, our baby is dead. Gettysburg took so many. What can we do?” The doctor advised, “Have more children, mothers and fathers love will cure.” Nana was born in 1874. “Why are you so old Nana?” “The Good Lord hasn’t called me.” Only children can ask these things. Again, a wave of lilacs and Lilies of the Valley, pungent and delightful invited me forward. I turn left past the STOP sign.  She was called just before 100. Yet she is with me, I was 10 before I realized Gettysburg was a place and the Hornet’s Nest held heroes not wasps. 

Lilacs in my home region came with the Pilgrims. They are horticultural signatures of past lives. Their profoundly virtuous truth renews each May.  Lilacs form clumps and slowly spread outward from roots. Carefully separate old growth from new with a spade to sever connecting roots from spurs. Err on the side of generosity, or rather your “thinning” should include a good size cluster of new growth. Plant in sunshine. Lilacs flourish just about anywhere and they are tough, perhaps the secret of their success. What really set them apart are the fragrant blooms in pastels ranging from pure white to deep purple. Famous for being in bloom at the time of Lincoln’s death, lilacs will grow in semi-shade but bloom in sunshine. If yours fail to bloom, move or open them to more sunshine. 

Lilacs are susceptible to mildew later in the summer. Yes, it’s a bit unsightly but the fungus infestation is not fatal to the plant. Consider other varieties. Colonists brought the lilac they knew in England, Victorian expeditions to Persia and Turkey searching tulips found many varieties of lilacs, each more notable than others for fragrance and blooming period. Follow your nose and select those with the divine fragrances and disease resistance. They are not fussy about soil and need little care. 

Lilies of the Valley will fill shady acid soils with thick foliage. Indeed, this is one of the few plants that will thrive under or near conifers. Their thick matted beds are long lived, the blooms are classic ivory, there are pink varieties, nursery vendors sell the shoots as “pips”. Imitate nature and plant six or eight inches apart and leave undisturbed. And yes, do not eat them, they are poisonous, an effective defense against insects and browsing animals. 

Nature offers many guides for gardeners. We’re past the average frost date and the soils are warmer. As lilacs bloom and oak trees bud out into leaf, it’s time to put in the tomatoes. For many gardeners this is the main crop of the year. Heirloom varieties are perfect for the home gardener. Most are remnants from an age when tomatoes were grown locally. Rapid transportation inspired plant breeders to develop types that travel well, to arrive in good condition long after harvest. Advertising for the last hundred years has defined stereotypical images of what produce should look like rather than the vast array of colors, shapes, forms, and especially, taste of varieties once grown locally. Immigrants have brought seeds and plants since the Mayflower. Each cultural group had favorites. In Newport RI, a house is marked where a local citizen publicly ate a tomato in 1820 to prove the so called “Love Apple” is not poisonous or incites one to lewd behavior. New Englanders could confuse the two. 

Now universal across America, industrial agriculture refines tomato varieties for shape, storage, transport, and may introduce genes from other species for resistance to pesticides and insects.  Not so high on the breeders agenda is taste, that too can be modified by ingredients added by large agro-corporate links in the food chain. The urban gardener has the opportunity to avoid all this. Heirloom plants are grown for taste. Enjoy robust flavors unknown to commerce. I suggest tolerance for ambiguity. Cultivate those heirlooms whose colors and shape may differ from conventional appearances. You will return to these heirlooms again and again. 

The endless cycles of seasons offers new opportunities every year. Each year, there are markers, punctuations lodged deeply within the senses. Cultivate the senses and the soil. Permit the nose to be a guide, breath deep and enjoy. Remember; don’t eat Lilies of the Valley. Nana is buried next to Sweet Susan, Lilacs grow in the stone walled family cemetery, Lilies of the Valley crowd the crooked stones, and some engraved with cannons and marked RI First Artillery.  It’s fitting we remember. Out of grief came love and along with love a bouquet of petite ivory flowers given to small old lady. “Your grandfather was my little boy, he brought these to me too, you may keep the worms, but not in your pockets.” 

Leonard Moorehead is a life-long gardener. He practices organic-bio/dynamic gardening techniques in a side lot surrounded by city neighborhoods in Providence RI. His adventures in composting, wood chips, manure, seaweed, hay and enormous amounts of leaves are minor distractions to the joy of cultivating the soil with flowers, herbs, vegetables, berries, and dwarf fruit trees.