Two years of gardening in Italy: From first harvest joys to being gardening burnt-out
Gardening. As a child/teenager, I connected gardening mostly to some unnecessary, expensive, artificial looking ornamental flower planting. It seemed to be that classical housewife activity, a last resort activity when this void life did not offer any alternatives. This view deterred the concept of gardening creating some distance and negative associations. Little did I know.
Not sure what happened in the 10y following that idea/perspective. I think the gardening fever took over. But rather than growing ornamental flowers, I became drawn to the idea of growing and cultivating delicious, unique, healthy vegetables, herbs, and fruits. This patience, determination and connection with your local area required. One of the biggest joys of my PhD when in Italy was this prospective of living in such a rural area that a garden was no longer an utopia as often the case while living in cities.
Underestimating gardening – when theory is not universally referring to practice
I was so motivated to finally have a garden. When I moved into the house in May, I already arrived with pre-sprouted tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis and melons and a strategy where to plant what at what time. The first days in the new house, instead of making the cold house feel more lively and tackling some Italian bureaucracy, I disappeared in the garden, setting up growing patches and getting the plant strategy right. In the following weeks and months, I spent every day after work, and sometimes even during work breaks, in the garden planting more seeds, watering, and setting up fertilising routines. This included making compost teas and herbal mixtures using nettle and horsetail (the herb!). For setting up the patches, I was literally fighting against very persistent shrubs before putting some carton underneath a layer of compost and manure. I applied some horse manure that I found in a heap deposited in my local forest, not sure who it belonged to. But I thought 5kg less of probably 500 or more should be ok… At some point, I was so desperate for some more manure from free-ranging animals for my fertilising perparation that I collected some on a mountain hike. Weirdly those people that shared the car ride back home with the manure and me are still my friends …
I was not aware how much work a garden is that is not limited to some few balcony pots. I need to admit that I also tried to kind of plant everything. From seldom basil varieties, to lemon trees, melons, potatoes, berry trees, peppers to Jerusalem artishoke. Perhaps I was overly ambitious for a first-year gardener. I severely underestimated the amount of time and dedication required. As my mum would say, these are the ‘education prices’ of gardening. Theory does not equal practice in gardening, I learnt it the hard way. Some of the harder losses envolve the lemon tree, lost due to a too windy spot and my potted apple tree that did not survive the winter drought that occured in my time there (sooo little rain, crazy!!! There were wild fires in April!!).
Nevertheless, the small joys of harvesting a ton of tomatoes, coriander seeds, some slightly peculiar melons (which I suspect cross-pollinated with some nearby cucumbers to create a new variety), actual cucumbers, a few peppers, radishes, ONE apple (as seen in the photo), and some baby carrots made all the effort worthwhile.
All embracing the spontaneous diversity – except for the neighbours
I allowed whatever wanted to grow to flourish in my garden, alongside my cultivated plants. This resulted in a diverse array of herbs such as mugwort, St. John’s wort, nettles, dandelions, clover, hops (much to the delight of a beer-brewing friend), mint, and a remarkably large sage plant. This approach not only saved me time on unnecessary cuttings but also contributed to the local biodiversity. For instance, my tomato jungle not only delighted my friends, neighbors, and me with its abundance, but also attracted some beneficial predators like vesp spiders, who set up their webs. Witnessing their successful hunting sessions, sometimes capturing prey as large as 10cm grasshoppers, was a fascinating part of the garden ecosystem.
The only party not happy with my gardening strategy were the neighbours. My garden was definitly not following the usual Northern-Italian-town-ideals. The senior neighbourhood did not much appreciate this diversity that was added to their district, which was shown by extending some shared fences to prevent the precious peaches from accidentally making their way to the wilderness garden, but also by some shouting at wrong-parked cars (while the parking spot was empty and not used by others). However, the dislike of the wild garden got a bit out of hand when one day, one of the neighbours seemed to be too disturbed by a spontaneous tree that decided to grow in MY garden. So one day, the tree was no longer, cut by a saw. I doubt that property-rights allow you doing this. Anyways seemed that they were setting their own gardening rules in this town that nobody told me about (not that I would have followed them anyways). While this cut tree was clearly on the territory of my garden, I need to admit that some other plants were more curious in testing the grass on the other side of the fence. My plants tended to be affiliated to grow in borderline territory. I’m not sure if it was due to their border-crossing preferences or simply because they did not appreciate the small sticks I collected from the nearby forest as support structures.
Garden when in doubt: extra difficult but also extra healing
In the first year of gardening, I still harvested a variety of fascinating fruits and vegetables, despite experiencing some losses and planting seeds that may take several years to grow. However, in my second year of gardening, I felt much more disillusioned. Alongside increased pressure in my PhD, I also grappled with emotional confusion, including doubts in my relationship and whether to move out of the house. These factors made it challenging to embark on such a time-intensive, long-term project. However, the tomatoes continued to grow and thrive despite my neglect. It felt as though they were urging me not to give up hope and dreams in gardening. Thank you, tomatoes; I will not give up! I eagerly await a garden revival. As soon as I have access to a garden plot again, I will once more embrace the joy of observing and nurturing plants and life they bring along with them.
