Gardening 101: Green Thumbs and Beginnings
GROWTH TIP:
It’s a lie. A blatant one at that. Green thumbs are not born. They are made. Forged in the soil of our backyards, in planters and patio pots, and even in our windowsill herb gardens. The truth (you can handle it): Green thumbs are first black thumbs, immersed in soil, over, and over, and over again. We learn most by failing. By trial and error. By preparing (reading, planning), doing, observing, and adjusting our methods (remember the scientific method from high school biology?).
So, if you want a green thumb (or a darker shade of green) first arm yourselves with information so that your gardening attempts do not lead to disappointment and a return to stamp collecting (no offense to you collectors). Read. Read. Read. Learn from others. Understand the fundamentals, including the importance of growing ourselves, as we attempt to grow succulent, vine-ripened tomatoes and scorching hot chili peppers. And secondly … Just Do It. Planning/preparing must be followed with action. But fear not. The dirt washes away with soap and water. Start by purchasing the seeds of the vegetables you like most, at your local hardware store, plant nursery, or on-line seed catalog. Carefully follow the directions on the back of the seed package. And then, Just Do It.
All photos by David Chick, Ph.D., aka the Garden Shrink
That goes for just about any other goals you have. In Health Psychology we refer to them as S.M.A.R.T. goals (in later blogs). Prepare. Act. Adjust. Still not sure you can grow a butternut squash or green beans for your Thanksgiving casserole? I have great news! Feelings, including confidence, often follow action or behavior. The motivation and confidence will come, after you start. Start small. Make it doable. Specific. Commit to it and announce it to the world. And then, Just Do It. Let the the gardening romance begin. Make that thumb turn green and your friends envious by getting down and dirty.
Not everyone has a taste for okra.
But this view from my home office window is not only beautiful, but will make a fine addition to a hardy bowl of gumbo.
Beginnings: Who or What is the Garden Shrink?
Welcome friends. Yes. I know. Weird name for a blog. Is this about teeny, tiny gardens for apartment dwellers? Or are you something akin to a dog or horse whisperer to the plant world? Someone who talks to cayenne peppers about their insecurities and reminds them that size does not matter and that they can still bring the heat? Or listens to beefstake tomatoes, about, you know … shhh … their weight issues. No, Big Boy, you are not morbidly obese, just pleasingly … plump.
Good guesses. I’ll give you partial credit. But no. While I am a clinical psychologist and find it a privilege to be invited into the secret lives of my clients, I am, like you, much more than my chosen profession. I’m a want-to-be novelist (two, someday-to-be-published psychological thrillers). Grandiose? Perhaps. But please don’t squash my dreams!
And I am a crazed vegetable gardener of 19 years, who hovers like a proud parent, over his hoard of harvested tomatoes of all shapes, sizes, and colors of the rainbow. Like the discoverer of buried treasure. Tomatoes=Treasure? Absolutely! You get it. See, we have things in common. And the world never knew us.
And I’m a canner of world-famous salsa (at least family and friends think so) made with all my own garden veggies and herbs … minus the salt. I can’t grow salt. Lover of nature. Semi-skilled photographer (aim to include only my own photos on this blog), sports junkie, family man, homebody, introvert, Faith-follower, thinker of deep thoughts, and grandpa x2 (to date). I love to learn. Am both thrilled to teach and lecture, and scared stiff, each and every time I do. A man who has hidden struggles, just like you. See, we have things in common. And the world never knew us. What, you thought mental health workers had it all together and weren’t a little “mental” themselves? That’s why we went into the business! I know we just met, but as a personal favor, please don’t tell my colleagues I just said that (more secrets of the trade to come in the journey ahead.).
In this blog, I intend to bring all of these elements together (okay, now I am being grandiose). The focus will be on all things gardening and all things growth, from career to interpersonal and from family to life-style balance and health. Gardening is a wonderful metaphor for life and I will attempt to highlight the parallels and lessons that can be gleaned from both. Additionally, I aim to be authentic and open with you. Not totally, mind you. You are not my shrink! But I will allow you to peak inside the brain of a psychologist and recognize our common humanity, dreams, and failures, while being inspired, motivated, validated, encouraged, informed, and entertained. Especially the latter. In addition to my dream of being a novelist, I have a fantasy of being a stand-up comedian. For now, I’ll be content with being a sit-down-at-the-desk comedian. And with your permission, I will definitely keep my day job.
Seedlings under florescent lights of the grow stand I got for Christmas. I’ve dreamed of owning one these for the last dozen years. Thanks Santa.
Enough About You, What About Us?
Enough about you, Doctor Dave, share with us something about gardening so I will want to come back.
More than fair enough! Sorry for the narcissistic indulgence above. But I’m new to this and I thought you might want to know a little about who I am, what I’m about, and what qualifications/experience I have to offer. Please note, I am not a Master Gardener. I didn’t study horticulture in college. And in no way am I suggesting I am an expert. But I do have nearly 20 years of gardening experience, and 30 years of experience as a clinical psychologist.
As I pen this beginning chapter. it’s early March in New England, in planting Zone 6A. While you in Florida, or South Carolina, or California have well-established vegetables already growing in raised beds, patio containers, or in sprawling backyard landscapes; Not me. I’m in the indoor, seed-starting phase (winter doesn’t retreat from parts of Massachusetts until May or June … exaggerating only a little). Don’t worry, though. I’ll catch up to your in 3-4 months, when my garden explodes in the heat of July.
Right now, I’m planning. Mapping out where each of my 40+ vegetable varieties will be planted this year. Planning. Scheming. Salivating. Like Pavlov’s dogs, or my 4 lb. Yorkshire Terrier, Toby. Note: Do not skip planning or salivating. Get organized. Each plant has an ideal time to be planted (often a range) in your zone (https//planthardiness.ars.usda.gov). Or, Google your local Cooperative Extension System in your state to get this information and so much more (pest and disease identification and management, soil testing services, planting guidelines). Mine is affiliated with the University of Massachusetts, Amherst (www.ag.umass.edu). Or go to a big seed company website, such as Johnny’s, located in ME, where both the novice and expert can get a plethora of seed planting guidelines, tips, and how-to videos; as well as buy seed and have it delivered to your door (even pre-Covid, can you imagine?)
Failure To Plan, is to Plan to Fail ... Right?
A bit of an overgeneralization. I mean, birds and the wind scatter plant and tree seed randomly, and some of these weeds and trees start growing where we don’t want them to, with little to no help at all. And even with planning, experienced gardeners fail. For me, I have to look no further than this past fall. I planted Brussels Sprouts for the first time (sometimes I plant things not because I love to eat them, but because I’m interested in new things/experiments). The Brussels Sprouts started slow, but by early fall, became beautiful, lush plants with mini little “cabbages.” Problem is, they never got big enough to harvest before winter roared in. They needed to be started about 3-4 weeks earlier. My experiment failed (I’ll be sharing all my failures, shame-free). But lesson learned. That’s gardening. That’s science. That’s an empty vegetable crisper in my refrigerator.
So, Dr. Dave, what does planning involve? As little or as much as you want. But planning is a must. Why? Because plants need to be spaced according to directions, or you may end up with a small harvest and with small fruits (they will crowd each other out, and steal the essential nutrients in the soil from each other). Some plants don’t need much room, but they may need deep, loose soil (carrots). Or they may need lots of room (summer and winter squash, pumpkins, watermelon). These plants spread and will often cover up your other plants, preventing the needed sunlight, and decreasing your harvest. Note: I’ve been doing this for 19 years, and I still don’t leave enough space for my summer squash. This year will be different! I promise.
And so I’ve planned. Mapped out which veggies will go where. I reviewed all my seed packages, ordered them by plant type, and noted when they should be started indoors (often 6-8 weeks before transplanting outdoors). Note: some plants don’t do well being transplanted, and need to be planted directly in soil (peas, beans, corn, cucumbers, squash). Also, l develop a general plan regarding successive planting (planting the same type of seed every two weeks to extend the harvest) for the season. Indoor seed planting began with my cool weather vegetables (can be planted outdoors in early spring). Broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, and beats were started in paper cups, on a heat mat, in a dome covered, starter tray. And when the seedlings emerged, miraculously, later that week, they were entrusted to the care and warmth of my new grow light stand, that finally arrived in March (Christmas present that arrived very late thanks to Covid) unassembled, of course (Arghhh). Personal secret: I’m a thinker, not a tinker.
Here is the Garden Shrink, covid hair and all, fly fishing for the first time in beautiful Colorado this summer. Beautiful state. Beautiful people. Beautiful trout!
