Want to hear it? ↓
I have always wanted an onion patch. I’ve also always wanted a flock of chickens, but that’s the topic of another day. My mom used to sing that little ditty to me when I was little. She always kept a big garden and we grew up eating fresh, organic produce, including onions. I love gardens, but I’m no gardener, which is just as well since we have a postage stamp yard and are overhung by great big ol’ trees. There’s a tiny patch by the driveway that gets enough sun to grow a few things, and I enjoy going out to pick fresh mint, oregano, sage, and basil.
We had a plot in the community garden for a couple of years when the kids were little, but it was not a pleasant place to work as it was right next to a busy highway; you had to yell to be heard over the traffic. The soil was dead when we started so the payback was pretty sorry. By the time we gave up there were plenty of earthworms in the soil, so hopefully the folks who took over the plot got some benefit from our efforts. We didn’t grow any onions.
Here’s another one Mom used to sing:Oh Playmate, come out and play with me And bring your dollies three. Climb up my apple tree, Look down my rain barrel Slide down my cellar door And we’ll be jolly friends forever more.
Give a listen here: ↓
Now, our cellar door was a plain, old, ordinary door that opened out at ground level, so I used to wonder how you would slide down it. The funny thing is, I had a friend who had one of those slanty cellar doors – and we used to play on it. It was only a couple of years ago that I realized what kind of door the song was talking about. Go figure. We live in a neighborhood filled with old houses with those slanty cellar doors. Our house has a regular door.
And if I ever do have an onion patch, there’s going to be a petunia planted smack in the middle.