Gardens at the End of the Road
Skylane Drive is a dead-end road. Sand takes over where asphalt leaves off, where commercial life ends and a new kind of life begins. A hard ninety- degree turn onto the sand strip opens the door to a couple acres of vegetable and flower gardens on the east end of Runway 4 at McKinnon Airport. It is the get-away home for dozens of gardeners who have turned the dusty earth into a veritable Garden of Eden.
Sandwiched between a chain link fence on the runway’s edge and a subdivision, small garden plots lie in perfect horizontal rows, verdantly demonstrative of the recuperative and productive power of the soil. Black composted soil, neatly lined in rows, is home to a variety of vegetables and occasional flowers that change with the season.
In the late February sun, rows of mustard greens, broccoli, carrots, cabbage, early Vidalia onions and other winter varieties live in quiet communion with the noisy surroundings. It is a surreal place for gardens, out of context. Yet here they are, now for over seven years, made available by the Airport Authority for about $65 per year rent for plots about 30 feet x 45 feet. A bargain.
I eased my bike down the sandy lane, instantly feeling at home. Only a few folks were tending to their plots this day, and I struck up a conversation with George Aycock and his pal, Ed Strickland. They were relieving the broccoli plants of their remaining remnants before they went to seed and were yanking huge orange carrots out of the ground.
“George,” I asked, “Why do you garden here?” Standing erect, he considered the question, and replied, “I guess it’s something I enjoy doing and it gets me out of the house. There is a lot of companionship here during the season. Besides, my garden is overly productive and I enjoy giving produce away.” I asked, “George, what are those reddish-green plants?” He allowed as how they were beets, and while he didn’t necessarily like beets all that much, he had planted the row for a friend.
Sensing something more, I listened. “You see,” George said, “my friend was a World War II Veteran and made 3 parachute jumps into Europe. I always admired his courage. He was ill and loved beets, so I planted these. I dug some up and took them over to his house, only to find out he died a couple of hours earlier.” We both looked for a moment at that row of beets, captive to our own thoughts.
George reminisced about the years he’d gardened since retirement. “Grew a pretty big turnip once…guess how big it was,” he said as a big grin appeared. “I give up,” I muttered …just how big can a turnip grow, anyway, I wondered. “Six and a quarter pounds,” he said with pride, “but not much good except to brag about.” So are a lot of things!
After George and Ed left, I found myself alone, sitting on a bucket, listening to the wind whisper gently as I contemplated things about gardens. Some lessons are obvious, like “Weeds Happen!” True, there seems to be a bias in nature toward the uncultivated field, the wildness of nature over the orderly, where weeds, thorns and thistles grow without any help. Doesn’t seem fair that so much diligent care must be taken to keep the weeds at bay. Yet if I remember correctly, Somebody a long time ago cursed the ground for the sake of man, and like it or not, that is just how it is.
Gardens are the mothers of miracles, too…miracles of growth, and these miracles follow the plow. Lying fallow for weeks, the garden begins to enjoy its soft and comfortable self, but soon it will groan under the merciless tilling of the plow. Seeds are planted and in no time, with sun and water, the ground is alive with new life. What a place to sit and think….should be mandatory for all school children, and adults as well!
Only gardeners appreciate the subtle joys of planting and tending. Gardens can’t be hurried, and that is perhaps the best lesson of all…we are not in control! Nature will have its way and the best we can do is cooperate in the effort.
What is the story-line here with these gardens?
On that Saturday afternoon I think I could understand the “connecting point” these gardens have provided this community. And as to the mystic part of me, the subtlety seemed too obvious to overlook: The “end of the road” was not the end of the road…just a new beginning…recurrent life is omnipresent!
So do yourself a favor….wander over there one day, introduce yourself to a gardener, and experience “the warmth of feeling united with the common pulse of humanity” on this elegant island.
Bud
February 29, 2008
Skylane Drive is a dead-end road. Sand takes over where asphalt leaves off, where commercial life ends and a new kind of life begins. A hard ninety- degree turn onto the sand strip opens the door to a couple acres of vegetable and flower gardens on the east end of Runway 4 at McKinnon Airport. It is the get-away home for dozens of gardeners who have turned the dusty earth into a veritable Garden of Eden.
Sandwiched between a chain link fence on the runway’s edge and a subdivision, small garden plots lie in perfect horizontal rows, verdantly demonstrative of the recuperative and productive power of the soil. Black composted soil, neatly lined in rows, is home to a variety of vegetables and occasional flowers that change with the season.
In the late February sun, rows of mustard greens, broccoli, carrots, cabbage, early Vidalia onions and other winter varieties live in quiet communion with the noisy surroundings. It is a surreal place for gardens, out of context. Yet here they are, now for over seven years, made available by the Airport Authority for about $65 per year rent for plots about 30 feet x 45 feet. A bargain.
I eased my bike down the sandy lane, instantly feeling at home. Only a few folks were tending to their plots this day, and I struck up a conversation with George Aycock and his pal, Ed Strickland. They were relieving the broccoli plants of their remaining remnants before they went to seed and were yanking huge orange carrots out of the ground.
“George,” I asked, “Why do you garden here?” Standing erect, he considered the question, and replied, “I guess it’s something I enjoy doing and it gets me out of the house. There is a lot of companionship here during the season. Besides, my garden is overly productive and I enjoy giving produce away.” I asked, “George, what are those reddish-green plants?” He allowed as how they were beets, and while he didn’t necessarily like beets all that much, he had planted the row for a friend.
Sensing something more, I listened. “You see,” George said, “my friend was a World War II Veteran and made 3 parachute jumps into Europe. I always admired his courage. He was ill and loved beets, so I planted these. I dug some up and took them over to his house, only to find out he died a couple of hours earlier.” We both looked for a moment at that row of beets, captive to our own thoughts.
George reminisced about the years he’d gardened since retirement. “Grew a pretty big turnip once…guess how big it was,” he said as a big grin appeared. “I give up,” I muttered …just how big can a turnip grow, anyway, I wondered. “Six and a quarter pounds,” he said with pride, “but not much good except to brag about.” So are a lot of things!
After George and Ed left, I found myself alone, sitting on a bucket, listening to the wind whisper gently as I contemplated things about gardens. Some lessons are obvious, like “Weeds Happen!” True, there seems to be a bias in nature toward the uncultivated field, the wildness of nature over the orderly, where weeds, thorns and thistles grow without any help. Doesn’t seem fair that so much diligent care must be taken to keep the weeds at bay. Yet if I remember correctly, Somebody a long time ago cursed the ground for the sake of man, and like it or not, that is just how it is.
Gardens are the mothers of miracles, too…miracles of growth, and these miracles follow the plow. Lying fallow for weeks, the garden begins to enjoy its soft and comfortable self, but soon it will groan under the merciless tilling of the plow. Seeds are planted and in no time, with sun and water, the ground is alive with new life. What a place to sit and think….should be mandatory for all school children, and adults as well!
Only gardeners appreciate the subtle joys of planting and tending. Gardens can’t be hurried, and that is perhaps the best lesson of all…we are not in control! Nature will have its way and the best we can do is cooperate in the effort.
What is the story-line here with these gardens?
On that Saturday afternoon I think I could understand the “connecting point” these gardens have provided this community. And as to the mystic part of me, the subtlety seemed too obvious to overlook: The “end of the road” was not the end of the road…just a new beginning…recurrent life is omnipresent!
So do yourself a favor….wander over there one day, introduce yourself to a gardener, and experience “the warmth of feeling united with the common pulse of humanity” on this elegant island.
Bud
February 29, 2008
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