Our climate in Northeastern Pennsylvania is perfect for gardening. Crocuses and daffodils pop up in March; tulips in April and by mid-May, perennials can be out of the ground with lily-of-the-valley showing off alongside the violets and pansies. All through the summer and well into the fall, or at least until the first frost, chrysanthemums and black-eyed Susans bring beauty to the front yards of our neighborhoods. Take some time to notice the beauty of the homes in our area. Nearly every house has a plant or shrub of some type in their front yard.

Gardening is both a curse and a blessing. I come from a long line of gardeners. My great grandmother had a beautiful English garden. My father and my grandfather could write books on the subject. So could with my mother and my grandmother. They infected my aunt and me. My brother is good at it, too. With four children, though, he’s keeping his talents in storage, I think.

My first apartment was in Nanticoke. I had a window box. End of story. Then I moved to Kingston. The yard area was the size of a postage stamp. Then, when I bought a house in Forty Fort, I really got hooked. My father, God bless him, came to my house and created some beautiful flower beds as a house-warming gift to me. He planted roses in one area and lilies and hostas in another. In yet another, he planted some annuals. It was just beautiful. I didn’t have a clue how to take care of them, but he taught me and eventually, I learned.

My grandfather was still living at the time and he gave me dahlias. I love them! They grow tall and the flowers are big and bright and last a long time in a vase. The kicker about these is that you have to dig the darn potato-like roots up in the fall and store them over the winter only to replant in the spring. I have no patience for that. Like roses, they’re way too needy.

I’ve moved from that house and have decided that I will never move again. The house I am in now had a vegetable garden that has turned into a perennial flower garden, with the help of my father. (Even after 14 years, I still see an onion spike up every now and again). But when reluctant gardeners like me decide that they will never move again, at some point, they also decide to make another garden bed. I know I did. On the side of the house, two more in the back of the house and another - annuals only - on the other side of the house. It’s nuts.

I start my gardening in March. The winter cleanup is never enjoyable, but it’s good to get the old bones outside after a long winter. I spend a few days on each bed and move on to the next. Perennials need to be thinned. Their roots are so strong, they need to be chopped with an axe!I don’t throw anything away. I trade with co-workers who have gardens of their own. One of my co-workers is very talented. I had an occasion to see her work first-hand and it’s right out of a catalog. I was very impressed and pretended not to be as jealous as I secretly was.

Weeding, though, is never ever done. I hate weeding. Every time I weed, I think about what a great topic weeding would be for a pastor’s sermon. Weeds represent the devil permeating our lives with destruction of all that is beautiful. You have to work and work to keep the devil out of your life. Well, the devil him/herself lives in my gardens. Like a good crucifix, preen helps.

So, here I sit, with a glass of wine looking at my beds. I have an aching back and screwed up fingernails. Every weekend for the past two months I’ve worked in these beds. It’s all worth it. Because, geez it’s starting to look good.