In the Beginning! by KCB

KCB is a professional gardener and friend who does wonderful work in the Greater Portland area. KCB is also an accredited Master Gardener by the Cooperative Extension Service and we are honored to have KCB as part of our Skillin's Garden Log family!




Once upon a time…………..? Long ago in a land far, far away………………..? It was a dark and stormy night………..?
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…….?

Novels, movies, tales of fact, stories of fiction all have a definitive beginning. We do as well at the moment of our birth. A pivotal starting point for sure, yet not the one that tends to come to mind when we reflect on how we came to be where we are. So much happens along the way. So many beginnings that often they go unnoticed until faced with the questions ‘When?’ ‘How?’ Or Why?’

I am often asked ‘What brought you to Maine?’ ‘Did you grow up on ‘the Hill’?’ ‘Aren’t you that famous actress…………?’ I admit, the last was pure fantasy on my part.

One answer to the question I so often am asked surprises the inquiring minds. This is even so when I encounter someone from my ‘corporate days’. They ask the question not with just one question mark, but many punctuated with exclamation points. “How did you get interested in Landscaping/Gardening/Playing in the dirt?”

What was YOUR beginning?

Many gardeners grew up with someone who loved the earth, whether it be a parent, aunt, grandmother/father, beloved neighbor. I am of city stock with none of the above remotely interested anything to do with a garden.

I have roots in Brooklyn with a mother who thought dirt in any form was nothing a lady should sink her hands into. To be less than spotless would reflect poorly on her mothering. A tree may grow in Brooklyn but nary a Geranium donned the stoop of our apartment building. We didn’t need any; the Brooklyn Botanical Garden was steps out the front door.

The place my father worked was moving to New England. ‘The Country’, my mother would wail. With 2 children in tow, they moved. In case you are wondering, I was not one of the 2.

As they became acclimated to life in New Hampshire, my father took reluctant pride in finally owning a lawnmower. A task he saw to only after acquiring his first driver’s license. I guess he needed a way to get the mower home. To hear the stories my father purchased his first car before he could even drive it.

The house where I lived the first 20 plus years of my life did come complete with roses. Maintenance was to cover with powder as a way to kill what we called ‘Rose Bugs’. Memorial Day would find us venturing to the only nursery within miles. Marigolds were purchased by the bushel. Later plants such as ‘pinks’ and ‘phlox’ were added.

As a child I never once attempted to assist with any planting. My father did it all, not as a labor of love for the earth, as a labor of love for my mom as it added curb appeal, a term we use to call ‘looking nice to the neighbors’. The front of our house donned the foundation plantings of the 60s—junipers and yews trimmed to a uniform triangle, wider at the top than at the base. We now know that this is so not the way to trim our shrubbery.

My childhood was backwards. While most city children were packed off to summer camps, I was transported via Trailways to the City. My grandparent’s apartment in Brooklyn, ‘Islands’ Staten or Long to play with cousins took up my summer months. Spending the hot days on the Staten Island Ferry, more comfortably seasonal days in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens (BBG), and rainy days in the Brooklyn Museum next to the Gardens were just a part of life. Ah……….those were less fearful times when children could wander the streets seeking out fun. Or am I confused with Oliver Twist?

So, how did I become interested in gardening? Let me rephrase that. How did gardening, creating tranquil and inviting landscapes become a passion? When did I stop flaunting perfectly French manicured nails and begin apologizing for a trace of dirt left behind? Did I hold a dream from hanging out at the BBG? No.

I was married at the ripe old age of 26 when I first learned that potatoes grew on a vine. I knew they were pulled from the dirt however I always envisioned them one potato at a time. My mother-in-law looked at my husband with such wondering eyes as he laughed when I spurted “So that is how potatoes are grown!”

Is that what started it all? My husband? Mother-in-law? No.

So what then? I’m afraid I have run out of space for this posting. While you wait to learn more, take some time to remember your beginnings. Share if you wish. We all have stories. I’d love to hear yours………….