Passage II

An Italian Garden in California

[1]

When I was young, my grandparents' sprawling Southern California yard intimidated me. [A] Whereas the small, carefully mowed lawn surrounding my own nearby house, their yard was a huge, unruly garden, like a neighborhood park that had been taken over by wildflowers and weeds. Grandpa worked in his garden every day—planting, and pruning, mixing and staking, weeding and mulching—so I wondered why it looked so wild and overgrown. (19)

[2]

Certainly, Grandpa told myself that the way he grew fruits, vegetables, and herbs conserved space and water. [B] His plantings are complementing each other and were in harmony with the seasons, the sun, and the acidity and moisture of the soil. Because of those benefits, he didn’t care how his garden looked.

[3]

The citrus trees grew in the sunniest part of the yard, they flourished there while providing shade for garlic and mint plants below. [C] Almond, peach, and cherry trees near the citrus, due to the fact that they were needing as much sun but more nutrients, were mulched with mounds of compost that Grandpa would mix himself. Fig, pear, and persimmon trees were scattered easy-growing throughout the yard. There were weathered trellises that supported raspberry, blueberry, and boysenberry bushes crowded together to block out weeds. Muddy, rutted paths led to tangled vines of endless varieties of tomatoes—some heavy and misshapen, others small and smooth, some even streaked purple, green, and red—with basil planted in between the vines to repel insects. Salad greens and herbs, such as arugula, Swiss chard, black kale, rapini, sage, and oregano, shared one large plot, given their similar moisture requirements.

[4]

Meanwhile, I learned that my grandpa’s garden, his orto, was much like the orto his own grandfather had cultivated in southern Italy. [D] When I plant a garden, I might start with my favorite tomato, the sweet Datterini, a classic cherry tomato variety from southern Italy that my grandfather grew so well.