Gardening Without Life Jackets

When I was around seven or eight years old, my Dad, a proficient doggy-paddler but a non-swimmer, decided me and my sister needed to learn to swim. So, he bundled us up in a couple of lumpy, bright orange-colored life jackets and marched us down to the lake at the end of our street. A group of three, we tromped the length of the longest dock and stopped at the edge, where my Dad picked us up, one at a time, and threw us into the lake. After sinking and bobbing back up to the surface several times, we did our best to tread water and make it back to the shoreline, while he watched from the dock. This ritual continued for the remainder of the afternoon until my Dad, satisfied we had mastered the basic skills of swimming, allowed us to slosh back home. 

Years later, while swimming at a local water park with my friends, I attempted to dive from a dock similar to the one my Dad had tossed me from when I was a kid. Unfortunately, I only knew how to jump into the water, not dive. Hence, instead of keeping my head tucked safely between my forearms for the duration of the dive, I looked up just as I entered the lake, and smacked my cheeks on the water's surface. Blushing crimson and hot with embarrassment, I swam to the shore to catch my breath.


Swimming and gardening may seem, at first glance, like activities that have little in common. However, they are similar in that they require perseverance, training, and growth for those who wish to advance their skill set. While my Dad's unconventional swimming lessons taught me how to stay afloat and make it to shore, they did not enable me to smoothly penetrate the surface, plunge deeper, and actually enjoy the water. As gardeners, we must be willing to work harder, learn more, self-reflect when necessary, and revel in the tasks that are unique to the garden. In essence, we must be willing to garden without life jackets.