Trials and Tribulations of a Professional Gardener

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7 • POSTED ON September 06, 2005
Trials and Tribulations of a Professional Gardener
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The Netherlands, 1965. A typical 8-year old Dutch lad is struggling with something he does not know how to deal with. There is this thing inside him – by now, we have determined it was a thing called “creativity” – that keeps bugging him; it wants out but he has no way of figuring out how to let it out because he does not recognize it.

Our gardening column is published every Tuesday on OttawaStart. Read previous columns here.

Rene's note: Yet again I owe my better half a big “thank you” for bailing me out and taking care of last week’s column in such a wonderful manner (yeah, yeah; jewellery has been purchased and will come your way shortly). I guess I have run out of excuses so I will have to live up to my promise and let you in on some of the things that seemed great ideas at the time I thought of them, but did not quite work out that way.

As always, the best way to start is at the beginning:

Picture this: The Netherlands, 1965. A typical 8-year old Dutch lad – a handsome one, if I may add, as well as a blessing to his parents (never got into trouble, always washed his hands before dinner - a little ray of sunshine indeed!) – is struggling with something he does not know how to deal with (no, not girls; that came much later). There is this thing inside him – by now, we have determined it was a thing called “creativity” – that keeps bugging him; it wants out but he has no way of figuring out how to let it out because he does not recognize it. It’s not sports (definitely not sports!); it’s not computers (because nobody on his street had even heard of computers in 1965) and it’s certainly not the weekly visit to the coal depot down the street to keep the furnace going!

So what does an 8-year old do? After dusk (he may be slightly weird but he is by no means stupid) he runs up and down the street (there are not that many cars in Amsterdam in 1965) flapping his arms pretending he is a bird. I suppose it is needless to say he never managed to circle over Amsterdam, so his next brilliant move is to talk his parents into letting him take guitar lessons. The choice is obvious; he likes music and Keith Richards of The Rolling Stones is his hero. However, as he soon finds out, guitar strings hurt little boys’ fingers and it does not help if your music teacher is old enough to be your granddad. Endlessly repeating “E minor – D – A” (or something to that effect) is not really inspiring either, so after 6 or 7 lessons, the guitar ends up under his bed – much to his parents’ dismay – and that is the end of that. Not a bad thing, if I may add; by now Keith Richards no longer looks as great as he did back in ‘65…

Anyway, to cut a long story short; the little boy then goes on to attempt to follow his country’s tradition by becoming a 20th century Rembrandt (nope!), by taking dancing lessons (nope!... though, by that time, girls came into the picture which negates the “nope”) and by joining his high school’s acting class (nope! He can’t act his way out of a paper bag so he ends up being a tree without ever delivering a line).

And then – at long last - there was gardening…

Suddenly, everything fell into place: every day thoughts were buried in soil (after all this time, I still HATE it when people call it “dirt”) and there were SO many wonderful plants (for the sake of argument, I will use the word “plants” to combine annuals, biennials, perennials, bulbs, shrubs and trees) to incorporate in the garden that the sheer thought of coming up with the right mix for a garden was/is as dazzling as it was/is challenging. Consequently, the little Dutch boy became a professional gardener – I still like to refer to myself as a “gardener” rather than a “landscaper”. It goes without saying this did not happen overnight – much to my chagrin – so this is where this week’s column actually starts (after the longest introduction any self-respecting columnist has ever written).

Cold Case File 1 / The Plant Collector

Yes, I admit; I am a plant collector – always have been and always will be. I am not so bad now – over time I have determined which plants I have to grow to be able to call a garden my own – but there was a time when this revelation had not yet come to me. Consequently, the first garden I ever owned resembled a nursery; an overstocked nursery, to be precise. Fortunately for me, any photographic evidence of this garden went missing when I left The Netherlands to seek fame and fortune in Canada but believe me, folks, it was bad!

Come to think of it, in a peculiar way it was actually very similar to gardening shows on TV. Whenever you see a garden makeover on TV, the premise is to show you the difference between “before” and “after” (preferably, the “after” garden will look better than the “before” garden). The only way to accomplish this is to fill the new borders with a billion new plants in order to create a visual effect of what the garden will look like once it matures. On TV, this works really well because all the plants that are put in are small. However, given the fact that plants quadruple in size within 3 years or so, you can only guess what these gardens will look like over time. Well, visualize that and you will know what my 900 square foot town house garden looked like after yours truly had collected every single variety of Lupin, Geranium, Anemone, Miscanthus, and Hemerocallis known to mankind (not including my Rose collection or the Hostas and herbs I decided I should have, nor the pond I decided I should incorporate into the garden). In fact, the garden became so (over)crowded that after three years I decided I should move – it was either that or purchase a machete!

Lesson learned: do not underestimate the growth potential of plants and do not over-estimate the size of your garden.

Oh, and as for TV gardens: trust me, it never comes to the point where a machete is required; I was once told by a producer of a well-known TV gardening show that as soon as the cameras are turned off at least half the plants are removed and returned to whichever nursery/garden centre sponsors the show.

Cold Case File 2 / The Fruit and Vegetable Grower

Fact: I love melons. Another fact: you cannot grow melons in The Netherlands (other than in a greenhouse) simply because the climate is too cold for the fruits to ripen (which is why melons over there are imported from countries with much hotter summers such as Spain, Morocco or Israel). Ergo, I decided to grow my own melons! I started an early crop by sowing the seeds directly in the compost heap (the decomposing process generates heat which is great for early sowing) and initial results were promising: the plants grew like stink (pardon the pun), producing tons of shoots and leaves. For those of you who are not familiar with growing melons; a melon plant’s growth resembles that of a pumpkin or squash plant. If you desire fewer but bigger and tastier fruits, nip off any excess shoots and concentrate on five or six promising looking buds. That particular year, the weather gods were generous to me, for it was a hot, wet spring that spurred my melon plants to continue their lush growth after I had transplanted them into the double-dug, enriched beds I had prepared for them. Regrettably, right around that time - while I was in the kitchen going through recipe books – the weather changed. The hot, wet spring turned into a cool, rainy summer and my poor melons were never heard or seen of again. In all fairness, I should add that the plants did, eventually, produce fruits but by the same token I should also inform you that consuming a melon the size of a golf ball is not something I would heartily recommend.

Lesson learned: go with Mother Nature, she does things for a reason. If certain plants are not supposed to grow in the area in which you reside and/or garden, so be it. Let it go and concentrate on the stuff you CAN grow.

Well, I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of my gardening blunders so I will have to continue this sad story next week (and possibly, for several weeks thereafter). Normally, I would tell you to garden happily until then, but this week I would like to take a personal moment and extend my heartfelt thanks to Canada for allowing a “simple Dutchman” to pursue his dream and be with the love of his life (you may know her; she wrote last week’s column). She is a red-blooded Canuck who happened to stumble upon a Dutch gardener on the Internet (of all places) and after a long, hard struggle our journey has finally come to an end; I will be sworn in as a Canadian citizen this Friday, 9 September, and you have no idea how happy that makes me!

Until next week – and way beyond – happy Canada!

René Trim

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About René
René Trim was educated and trained in The Netherlands, before moving to Canada in 2000. After studying the differences in climate and season faced by Ontario gardeners he established Trim Garden Design and Rescue in May 2002. A gardener since the 1980’s, he has a wealth of knowledge and experience, a vast library of reference materials from which to draw answers to various garden situations as well as an enthusiastic and professional staff.