Family gardening second chance: the sequel

Last August, I wrote about trying again to grow a bleeding heart that descended from one in great-grandmother Elise Reutzel Wirth’s garden. My brother dug up and divided Mom’s during the terrible Midwest heat and drought last summer (record number of days over 100), then mailed me some of the root stock (good thing, since she moved to elsewhere in her retirement village a couple weeks ago). Frankly, I was pretty skeptical that what looked like dry, brown sticks when they arrived would come to life.

Well, as of this week, we have a handful of hearts! Except for taking this shot, I’m keeping mesh bunny guard around the three baby plants that came up, to increase their chance of survival.

(Note: I’ve had my compact point-and-shoot Canon Powershot camera for three years now, but still have a very difficult time getting it to focus on tiny targets like the hearts in this picture vs. the leaves or background.)

I’ve been granted a “family” gardening second chance

I think some strong horticulture genes come down from both sides of my family.

Let’s just say that I suspect as we go back in time (depending on which of my family lines) two to four generations past the educated professionals, clergy people, factory workers, restaurant managers, stone masons, store buyers, and train station attendants, you will find at least a part-time farmer.

To put it succinctly: no coats of arms on any of my tree branches; think peasants/serfs.

Ha, I’m no farmer; not even close–that’s why for all but a few “hobby” veggies/herbs, I hire out to a local farming couple for a seasonal farm share. I never even acquired my current non-rented “estate” ( a vast 1/8-acre), until I was in my mid-30s, so lacked experience of growing plants before then.

Nevertheless, I’ve had a lot of successes since my debut as a horticulture greenhorn in ’98, more in the realm of perennial flowers and shrubs than in that of veggies. I think the successes have to do with growing plants that are native to and adapted to the region–particularly perennials.

So, before my aunt in a town just north of Philadelphia sold her house and moved to a retirement complex, she had some bleeding heart plants that had spawned a few baby plants. Her plants were descended from some in my grandparents Fred and Marie Wirth’s garden on Swamp Road. Theirs were descended from the garden of grandpa Fred’s mother, Elise Reutzel Wirth, in upstate New York.

After I moved to my current abode, my aunt gave me one of the shade-loving bleeding heart offshoots. I planted it in the semi-shade of baby lilacs and it flourished for several years. Well, FYI, lilacs grow big quickly! Several springs later, the lilacs were huge and the bleeding heart, once lush, barely sent up any shoots. I decided to dig it up in the fall and replant it.

It never came up the next spring in its new locale. I was then and have since then been devastated. This plant meant so much to me, as a symbol of the continuing family line–part of that identity of being a nurturer of plants.

So it was with great surprise and excitement today when I heard from my brother that he had dug up and separated the roots of another “granddaughter” of Elise’s plant, presumably from that in front of Mom’s house, separated the clump, and mailed me the root stock to plant and try again!

I hope, I hope that I plant it in an auspicious location and nurture it properly until next spring! It will mean a lot to my heart.

Thanks to sister for reminding me of the Low German word for our distinctive herb

Last evening, as happily more and more often, now that we are planning to travel abroad together in September, my sister Margie and I talked on the phone.

While relating how I had spent my weekend, I said I only planted a very small herb garden, since at the end of May, I will start receiving my farm share from the CSA (“community-supported agriculture”) I committed to joining last month (by the way, a Mennonite one!). I knew from reading the list of veggies the couple will grow that I will receive a variety of herbs, as well as green beans.

Thus, with the green beans, I will have one important half of jreena Shaubelsupp (“jreena” = green; “Shaubel” = bean”; supp = “soup”). However, judging by the fact that the other very important ingredient was not on their list, nor could it be found on any rack of garden seeds in our entire town, I’m guessing the essential herb, Papakrut (Low German)/Bohnenkraut (German)/summer savory (what the “English” call it) will not be contained in my farm share boxes. I am well aware that there are few of my Low German ethnic background living in this area.

Although the terms Bohnenkraut and summer savory were inscribed in my mind, for some reason, till I talked with my sister, I had forgotten “Papakrut.” Thanks, sis! I have added the term to the glossary at the end of the Dirks-Dueck page of this site. She lives in an area of Canada where many descendants of settlers of our ethnic group still speak the ancestral Low German tongue.

As it turned out, after my driving around from garden store to garden store with frustration at not finding the seeds, I asked my garden-geek office mate where he orders his seeds, as he had mentioned he orders from seed houses who don’t do genetic engineering or use pesticides. Thus, I had to order my Papakrut seeds over the Internet from an organic seed house in California. So, with the shipping and handling, it was crazy to pay five or six dollars for one packet of seeds, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. What I was surprised at was how tiny the seeds were, like barely visible to the human eye! It brought to mind the parable of the mustard seed.

I should probably end this post on a more lovely “note,” but I was interested and extremely amused to read in the description for these seeds on the Web site that Papakrut helps reduce flatulence. Hmm, I guess our ancestors were onto something, adding it to bean soup. I’m sure they won’t be offended, as it’s almost impossible to speak Low German, I’m told, without covering subjects of an “earthy,” low-brow nature.

Update, mid-July:

Update July 29 (got my first green beans from the farm yesterday):