"Mum, when are we going to sow the tomatoes?"
We want to know: As novice gardeners, my children and I plant all kinds of fruit, vegetables and flowers. Join us through the highs and lows of our spring gardening adventures.
"Mum, I want to grow lots of vegetables!" Oops, I think, that's great to hear from my six-year-old son, who hardly eats any vegetables at the moment. "Good," I reply, "we'll do that." We have a garden now. "Good," he says, "let's go!" We start highly motivated, buy seeds - organic of course - carrots, tomatoes and fennel to begin with. The packets tell me that we should sow some directly into the bed and others in a seed tray. But in March at the earliest. So we buy a mini greenhouse and wait, it's only February. "When can we finally sow the seeds?" my child asks. "In March," I reply. We count down the days until March.
When March arrives, the seeds are forgotten because of visits, illness, birthdays, everyday life. Then they come back to us. "Now we can sow the seeds? Oh yes!" exclaims my son. I google and say: "We need sowing soil first." "Why?" he counters, "We've already got soil!" Hmm, I think, looking at the universal soil, that really would be easier. But the internet says that sowing soil is even better. I say: "Let's start weeding the bed and postpone sowing the seeds."
Rich herbs with an aftertaste
Our garden bed measures two by seven metres and is surrounded by a snail fence. Overgrown with Unkraut weeds. Every herb has its place. Just not in our vegetable patch, where we only want vegetables. Dandelions, grass, a few prickly blackberries and lots of nettles compete with each other here.
There's a loud cry of "Auaaaaaa!" Tears are flowing as the nettle has stung our younger son, aged three, through his children's gardening gloves. Yes, that's really unpleasant. Even though a few of the stings are supposed to be good for your health, I'd rather put on my leather gardening gloves now. But before I can really get into the flow with my spade and hoe, the little one has other plans. "Mummy, come with me, I want to drive a tractor!"
On another day, I'm standing in the flower bed with my six-year-old. He throws the shovel away and moans: "Why can't we sow the seeds right now?" "We just have to make room first," I reply, but he is no longer listening to me. Instead, he is now lying next to his little brother on the deckchair, alternately teasing and then laughing again. "Mum, we want oat milk!" they call out to me. "And something to eat!"
Ahm yes, and what about the bed now?
Perhaps a daft idea after all
I generally find gardening incredibly grounding. When I'm sitting alone in the grass, digging away and it's just quiet, except for the buzzing of insects and the twittering of birds. I also find gardening incredibly enjoyable when my children are concentrating on digging next to me, showing me an insect with interest or picking flowers - or playing together next to me (harmoniously).
What I find really exhausting is being interrupted every two minutes with a new wish, a new problem. Why is the bed so big, I ask myself now, and: When are we finally going to finish weeding? We wanted to sow in March and the end of the month is approaching. Was it a stupid idea to want to cultivate this bed? Wouldn't it be more relaxed to read to the children and buy the vegetables from the shop? We'll leave it for today, I decide, looking at the still very overgrown bed. And we'll buy some sowing soil for now anyway.
Finally, the first magical moments
During the long, long bed preparation aka weeding, which takes several days for us - and I wonder if everyone takes so long and if it couldn't be done more efficiently - we also experience these moments of little magic: my three-year-old discovers two blue baby snails.
My six-year-old announces that he really wants to sow courgettes, which he never eats otherwise, because they certainly taste much better when home-grown. The children pick grass for the neighbour's chickens. The dog stretches out comfortably in the sun. My husband finds a stone in the shape of a heart for me. The sun flashes through the grey clouds, warming my face and suddenly all the stress falls away from me, which, as a mother, occasionally sits on the back of my neck in everyday family and work life. There's something nice about gardening!
If only, then only
Then we get the sowing soil and more organic seeds. The children choose melons, strawberries, peas, sweetcorn and edible flowers. I've read that you should start with very little, but we want to know now. If we're going to do it, let's do it! The long weeding should be worth it. At home, we sort the seeds according to which can go straight into the bed and which can only go out in May after the ice saints. They can grow in our mini-greenhouse before then.
Then it's time to get started: the bowl on the lawn and fingers in the soil. The children in rain trousers concentrate on filling each little pot with soil. I squat next to them in a yogi squat and finally feel grounded. Then we open the seed packets and are amazed. I am also amazed that the corn seeds are simply dried corn kernels and how tiny the strawberry seeds look in comparison.
The big one carefully picks out the seeds, counts them and gently covers them with a little soil. The little one tries it too, and lavishly shovels a load of soil on top. I provisionally write the names of the plants on sticky tape so that we know later what is growing where. We can make name tags another time.
The next morning, the excited greeting: "Mum, Mum, nothing has grown yet!" I keep eyeing our little mini greenhouse on the windowsill and am really excited to see when the first green will break through. Now it's time to get going and pull the last weeds out of the bed!
Baby happiness in the seed tray
And then we really did it. On the last Sunday in March, we finally finished weeding the bed. We put some compost on top, make grooves with the rake and put in the seeds, which can now go straight into the bed (carrots, peas, flowers).
As difficult as the start was, everything went very quickly in the end. While I weeded, the children dug holes ("Look, an underground car park!"). They build shelters for earthworms with leaves and sticks and are at first outraged, then fascinated at how the useful animals quickly disappear into the soil. If we discover a green "Nimmersatt caterpillar", we carefully relocate it to our wild nettle corner next to the flower bed.
Now we just have to make the name tags. As we go inside for the day, the good news rings out from the seed tray: "Mum, mum, the seeds have grown into baby plants!"
Because I'm a novice gardener myself, I sought the advice of an expert. Kathrin Hälg runs the learning garden for children at the Bach Areal in St. Gallen, a project by "Gartenkind" Bioterra. You can read the interview with her here soon.
Header image: Ann-Kathrin Schäfer
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Ann-Kathrin Schäfer
Editor freelance
simon.balissat@digitecgalaxus.chI'm really a journalist, but in recent years I've also been working more and more as a pound cake baker, family dog trainer and expert on diggers. My heart melts when I see my children laugh with tears of joy as they fall asleep blissfully next to each other in the evening. They give me inspiration to write every day - they've also shown me the difference between a wheel loader, an asphalt paver and a bulldozer.
