My Least Favorite Primary Song

Posted by Jennie | June 12, 2008 | 11 Comments

Remember the old Primary song called, “The Prophet Said to Plant a Garden”? No? Neither do I. But several years ago my daughter loved to read the Primary Songbook before bed, so I got to be pretty familiar with all the lesser-known ditties, including that one.

Right around that same time we moved into a house in Oregon that had an embarrassingly abundant garden. It was late summer when we arrived and I couldn’t believe the gorgeous produce that was suddenly all ours.

I didn’t grow up in a gardening family. Part of the problem was that we lived in Detroit and, except for some people in the ward who lived way out in the suburbs, nobody had anything to do with growing things other than dandelions in sidewalk cracks. My mother tried to live up to her rural Utah roots and plant a garden in the sandy patch on one side of our yard. She’d heard that Native Americans planted fishheads with their corn to fertilize it. Mom didn’t have any fishheads on hand so she used the next best thing—fishsticks. The raccoons were in heaven that night. We woke the next morning to find all her little corn transplants trampled into the ground by tiny feet. Apparently this gave rise to a great folk tale in the raccoon community because every year afterwards, her sad little garden would be dug up again by greedy little raccoons trying to find more buried fishsticks.

So when I finally had a house of my own, gardening was still a rather large mystery. I was extremely perplexed the next year after we moved to Oregon find nothing in my garden but a few strawberries and a whole lot of weeds. Where were my lemon cucumbers? My tender carrots? My bounteous beans? It turns out that there are these things called seeds that have to be replanted year after year. Imagine that!

At first I was happy picking out little colorful packs of vegetable seeds from the hardware store. But soon came the great hypnotic seduction of seed catalogs. Those catalogs with pictures of cauliflower the size of soccer balls are nice, but the ones that get me, the ones I simply can’t put down are the ones with drawings of the plants. Or even better, no pictures at all. Just a poetic essay describing the differences between fifteen types of watermelon. One has tiny moons and stars on it? One has been cherished by the Amish for hundreds of years? How can I possibly resist? (I can’t.)

The sad truth is that I’ve just never gotten the hang of gardening. Some years I’ll start out so well. I grow hundreds of little seedlings that I lovingly plant in the garden, only to tire of them a few weeks later. By mid-July I’ve completely lost interest. Weeding is boring, the sun is so hot, and I just have no idea when to pick half of that stuff. My fancy Amish watermelons sit in the hot sun while I stand over them nervously repeating the words from the catalog, “the melons are ready to harvest when they are tapped and produce a ‘punk, punk, punk’ sound. If they sound like ‘penk, penk’ they are not ripe.” (I’m not making this up, I swear.)

The words of the song whiz through my head over and over, year after year, “the Prophet said to plant a garden”. Why isn’t there a song about the prophet saying to play Hi-Ho Cherry-o with my kids? I do that all the time. Or how about the prophet saying to make really great cookies? I can do that too. But no. Song #237 was still there last time I looked. And my garden? It’s, um, lying fallow this year. Yeah, I’m letting the soil rest. Next year the garden will be great. ~~For sure.~~ Maybe.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

11 Responses to “My Least Favorite Primary Song”

elizabeth-w
June 12th, 2008 @ 9:28 am

I refer you to page 263’s “We are Different”. I’m working on a verse that includes a line which says ’some of us have black thumbs’. It’s not very lyrical, but it’s too true in my case.
Justine
June 12th, 2008 @ 11:22 am

I fall victim to those alluring seed catalogs, too. But I’ve never once gotten anything remotely close to the picture or description they provide.

I am undaunted, however. Each spring brings with it the dawning of my new hopes — hopes that this year will be the year I figure it out. I’ve gotten better at some things, and I guess I’ll have it all down pat about the time that I’m too old to do anything about it.
Lisa
June 12th, 2008 @ 11:23 am

Elizabeth-w–You are the best!
Les
June 12th, 2008 @ 1:36 pm

I too am lured in by the beatific seed packets and catalogues, I dutifully plant, but then neglect. Usually I only yield a handful of peas, enough basil to make one pasta dish, 3 flowers and a woefully undersized pumpkin. This year- I vowed to greater diligence, however one week after transplanting my sprouted seeds I found my children tearing the leaves from them (in the name of deadheading) and ripping them from the ground (weeding). I diligently follow the prophet to plant one- however the promise of the harvest eludes me (hmm kind of like missionary work – I just keep planitng those seeds- maybe its the tough climate here in new england_ LOL)
Red
June 12th, 2008 @ 4:11 pm

I love those seed catalogs (so seductive!) and have tried gardening, but my ambition is always greater than my skill and attention span. The seeds and plants end up being a waste of money: so now I resist and spend a little extra (the money I would have spent on seeds) on organic heirloom tomatoes and fresh green beans from the local market. I tell myself that if I was truly dependent on my garden my attention would be better focused!
Dalene
June 12th, 2008 @ 5:35 pm

I’m a great gardener!

Until early July.

Then I too succumb to the heat and the weeds take over.

That said, this year I am trying to do better. I’m dreaming of a vine-ripened tomato and fresh salsa that didn’t cost an arm and a leg or was pulled from the shelves because of Salmonella.
Jia
June 12th, 2008 @ 7:52 pm

I’m one of those that wants to garden, but doesn’t know where to even begin.

I’m also one of those that if I don’t know the primary song, I skip it! LOL!
angie f
June 12th, 2008 @ 9:37 pm

Living in the desert, even if I’d had a knowledge of gardening where I grew up (big IF), it would be useless here, where there are 2 growing seasons and I’m supposed to have most things in the ground no later than St. Patrick’s Day (or so they tell me) or they will be fried. I have tried a few things and met my match in the tomato horn worm. Since my run in with them, I just can’t muster the courage to even look further than the seed packets. And if ever I think, just maybe this time . . . it’s usually after the 17th of March and “too late” anyway. I do know the song (we went through a “primary CDs in the car phase”) and must admit I have cringed on more than one occasion, but also because my 90yr old grandmother has only recently given up cultivating her 1/2 acre garden. I feel like I’m the broken link in the chain!
Arianne
June 13th, 2008 @ 2:19 am

I’ve tried and tried too. I even tried the ever-so-easy Square Foot Garden. I bought the best seeds, read the book, built the squares…did everything just as it said. the first year, nothing grew. turns out the black plastic I used under the squares rotted the roots. So I switched it to gardening cloth the second year, and still most didn’t grow. I give up! I know it would be good to have fresh veggies if the worst comes to the worst, but I just can’t make things grow!!!
Wendy
June 13th, 2008 @ 7:26 am

Our garden thrived when dh was in charge of watering. I have a goal to be a good gardener someday. In the mean time, I am secretly grateful for the Japanese Beetle related gardening restrictions. Last year we couldn’t grow one and this year the restrictions make it too inconvenient.

Someday . . . !!
Eirol
June 29th, 2008 @ 11:19 pm

I have ONE success! My yard is parched dirt. But I love fresh green beans. My old neighbor happens to have a large, fertile flower patch to which he pays scant attention except to irrigate weekly. One day early each spring, after he has planted his usual marigolds and begonias, I will watch for his car to be gone, I plant my sproutlings between his flowers and poke in one of those little fertilizer sticks near each plant. Then I ever-so-kindly pull a few weeds from his garden whenever I pass by. He thinks I’m such a nice neighbor! Actually, I’m just preventing him from pulling up my beans should he ever decide to weed his patch. By mid July his garden looks green and bushy. With his bad eyesight, he doesn’t recognize the bush-beans between his marigolds and begonias, and while I weed, I pick my beans. I get a couple of pints a week, keep his garden weeded, and what nobody knows, nobody can complain about. (But am I a crook?)