March Tools of the Trade

Even back as far as the Stone Age the hunters and gatherers made tools as an extension of their hands. And any experienced gardener knows it is futile trying to work in the garden with inadequate tools. So said, I have the winter tool sales ads in my hot little hand, and am popping out to my barn to check my tools and see if I need any new tools that might be in these sales fliers.

The beginning of the gardening season in New England is only about eight weeks away and that seems like forever when we are just itching to get our hands in the soil. In fact the other day; a really barmy one at 55 degrees; yours truly went outside and pulled back the snow and discovered some snowdrops beginning to push their way through to daylight. Following that discovery and a cup of earl grey tea, I was able to dispense with the winter blues feeling for that day at least and took myself out the barn.

I am very glad that one of my better traits is organization; as my tools are hanging neatly on the wall and in their proper slots on the shelves. I know many of you do not have the tidy trait and will be shoving stuff aside and into piles to try and fathom out, what you might need. By the way, watch out for that shovel that’s about to fall on you! Of course I’m sure at the end of next season you will be better organized – no? I am a dedicated tool addict and one of my favorite shops when I was growing up in England, was the old-fashioned hardware shop.

Stores are called shops in the U.K. and store is to store things; a little bit of trivia. The hardware “shop” had sawdust on the floor, which absorbed any machinery oil that spilled. I breathed in the pungent earthy fragrance that emitted from the large wooden barrels filled with organic fertilizer and grass seed; in those days these items were carefully weighed and purchased by the pound. I stood on tiptoe to peer and sniff inside the barrels; that smell reminded me of my Uncle Ted’s farm; of warm hay, animals and the pungent odor of manure; smells that brought happy memories of endless summer days. Inside the hardware shop, the walls were covered from top to bottom with old, scarred wooden drawers; hundreds of them it seemed. The drawers contained treasures with every size of nails, screws, nuts, hooks, bolts and some items I do not pretend to know the names of. Mr. Meredith Evans was the shopkeeper; a lovely Welshman who had some kind of growth like a small horn on his nose. I was so curious about that growth and would stare. I wondered if it would grow larger perhaps as big as a Rhinoceros horn, (a child’s fancy has no limits). At some point during this wondering, my grandfather, who was with me, would give a little nudge and whisper something about it being rude to stare. Anyway, Mr. Evans did not seem to mind my staring and would wink and then break into song about the mountains of Canaervon and Cader Idris. Mr. Evans was a proud member of the Welsh male voice choir, which performed every August at the Eisteddford, a wonderful music festival held outdoors in the valleys and on the mountainsides of Wales. Even during World War II which was happening in my childhood, this festival still took place, even though the rank and file of the choirs was limited (all able bodied men were fighting at the front). However, the high-pitched voices of the young and deeper timbre of older voices swelled the numbers and would not be dimmed. The home guard kept any eye on the skies to make sure no harm befell them from a stray German bomber. I was led to believe that every Welshman could sing, although my uncle Llewellyn could not carry a tune to save his life. “Indeed my love” Mr. Evans would say each time he finished singing “don’t you agree that even our lovely Welsh dialect sounds like music?” And I would never argue with a man who had hands the size of ten-pound hams and a horn on his nose! Following that little musical interlude Mr. Evans would ask what we needed that day and turn to the wooden drawers which had no labels and open the right draw every time. He carefully counted out the exact number of items, put them in a small brown paper bag and presented them to us as if he were loathe to let us and them go like a favored grandchild.

But enough of reminiscing let’s get into the tool list: Good quality tools are a necessity. Make sure you have the basics before you begin so you won’t be constantly thwarted by such commonplace tasks as digging a hole or cutting a branch.

LIST:

• Spade or long handled shovel for digging Spading fork for turning and loosening soil. These are available in different sizes for men and women
• Hand trowel for digging holes for small plants; I prefer a sharp-pointed one similar to a small mason’s trowel, because it’s also a useful cultivating tool
• Trowels with slightly rounded sides, like a miniature shovel, are excellent for digging out small plants and making holes in which to place them.

Another little aside; the mention of trowels brings back another memory. I remember my two year old self waddling behind my father between the many rows of potatoes with my black Clumber spaniel puppy Max, bringing up the rear. My mittens were attached to my sleeves with a piece of elastic and a safety pin, and I proudly carried my own red trowel that was no bigger than a tablespoon. I loved unearthing the potatoes; they just popped out of the soil like diamonds; buried treasure. As I went along the rows, I put some of that rich manure and soil mix into my little blue bucket, this fertile mixture I used later for my own small garden that Max and I were making behind the root cellar. I put the smallest potatoes into my mitten, and ran in to my grandmother who promised to cook them for me for dinner. My mouth watered just to think of those sweet new potatoes sprinkled with a little salt. The grownups were allowed a pat of the rationed butter on theirs and occasionally, I would get a taste; however to this day I never really acquired an affinity for butter and use olive oil instead which I believe is much healthier.

The British government commandeered all usable fertile land to produce food for the war effort and ours was certainly that. We all pitched in to grow as much produce as possible; and that was quite a challenge in a temperate climate with a rather short growing season. My family was allotted extra petrol (gas) coupons because we trucked much of our produce to Park Hall Army Camp, about twenty miles from my hometown of Shrewsbury in the county of Shropshire. Park Hall camp was the headquarters for the battalion of the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry, where the young conscripts did their basic training before being sent to the frontlines over the British Channel in Europe. I remember vividly one afternoon my grandmother Elizabeth called me into the kitchen and with tears rolling down her cheeks, told me that her twin nephews, Dick and Reginald, aged fifteen, had lied about their age in order to enlist. They wanted to follow their dad into war so they could be a part of doing in that b…little Kraut and his rotten lot. But following the terrible carnage inflicted in France and Belgium, they were the first two of the seventeen men of our family that did not return home to us. We always dreaded receiving those telegrams with a black border from the War Office. But there were lighter moments. I particularly looked forward to Friday and Saturday mornings when we took produce to be sold in the 14th century open-air town market. People were desperate for fresh vegetables and fruit; at least these items were not rationed. As you can imagine everything was sold in the first hour. I loved the old market with its stalls open to the sky and the tall sandstone market tower on its eastern side, where for centuries; watch had been kept to sound the alarm if any bands of marauding Welshmen were in sight of the town walls. The Welsh, Scots, Irish and English were always at war through the seventeenth century.

But let’s get back to that tool list.

• Rake for smoothing soil and for tidying up messes (a clean garden is a healthy garden)
• Hoe for cultivating and weeding
• Handpruners for cutting small size growth and flowers. Need to be good quality, they will be used a lot and make sure they fit your grip. Try out several at the store to see which feels best.
• Watering can, garden hose and soaker hoses. I prefer soaker hose for watering the borders, the water goes straight to the roots where it’s needed, and the water is not lost in evaporation and will not wet the leaves which can cause disease and mildew. Don’t bother with inexpensive hoses, they break easily and you will be forever replacing, you do need a regular good hose for other watering tasks.
• A kneeling stool or kneeling pad is a nice way to be kind to your knees and this way you can be more comfortable doing certain tasks and stay relatively clean and dry. Take advantage of those moments while you are down on your knees and to say thanks for your garden. Your garden is a miracle of nature. Enjoy this breather because most of the time you will be doing back aching work digging, planting, hauling seed, fertilizer, manure, mulch and debris.

At the beginning of the gardening season, work within your own strengths and energies. Many are not used to strenuous exercise especially after winter’s hibernation. You don’t want an injury at any time, but the beginning of the growing season is not the time to get laid up. Don’t get overwhelmed, or bite off more than you can chew. Tasks in the garden don’t have to be completed in one day or one weekend. Just because the instructions on the box of grub control say apply the first week of April, the second or third week is acceptable. Also enlist help from the family; spring is a lovely time for everyone to be finally outside again and to introduce children to the miracle of Mother Nature. Finish one area at a time, so you don’t have piles of half done projects scattered throughout the garden.

Back to the list again:

• A basket in which to carry small tools, seed packets, bug spray and other objects such as a water bottle. Drink plenty of water when you are gardening, or doing any form of exercise and believe me gardening is a work out.
• Wheelbarrow for collecting debris, moving plants around, carrying peat, manure and fertilizer
• Hand care – be kind to your hands. Hands are your main tools. Before working in the soil, scrape your nails into a bar of moistened soap, and then apply some hand cream. Put on a pair of light cotton gloves then work gloves over them. You’ll be amazed to see how clean your nails emerge when you wash your hands later.
• Work gloves: there are many to choose from, I prefer the inexpensive leather ones that farmers wear, which can be cleaned in the washing machine. Gloves also save your hands from scrapes and bacteria. You may notice I did not say chemicals; don’t use pesticides or herbicides in the garden; use organic methods of fertilization and prevention.
• Sunscreen, hat and light colored clothing. Wear a long sleeved shirt and long pants in areas where Lyme disease ticks may lurk, such as in the long grass

Build on your collection of tools over time, getting the essential ones first. Having the right tool makes a task much easier. Look after your tools by keeping them clean and oiled. Rub linseed oil or furniture polish over wooden handles to give them a protective coating, this way they are less likely to become rough and give you splinters. The old adage holds, you get what you pay for; buy the best you can afford. I bought expensive steel spades in 1991 for my crew, that were purported to last a lifetime and I think they will as they still as good as new after hundreds of hours of hard, hard labor.

See you next time in your garden!