Dear Friends and Gentle Hearts

Norm Walker

The Reel Gardener

(words and music by Norman G. Walker - 2007 © SOCAN)

When the spring comes around and it’s time to plant the garden
And the full moon is calling, so you know
That it’s time to make a plan, so rototill the land
And grab yourself a shovel and a hoe.
First you mark off the rows with your eye or a line
Use a couple wooden stakes on the ends
Make a straight little trench, one end to the other
That’s the place that the seeds are gonna spend.
Plant the seeds in the groove, up the middle
Then cover with dirt, just a little
Make a parallel row, a couple feet away
Then plant another kind or type of seed.
There’s lots to know, and discover
The size of the seed, and the depth of cover
The density to plant, with each other
Now it’s up to Mother Nature and the sun and rain.

With the summer comin’ on, there are weeds in the garden
Much easier to get ‘em when they’re small
If you forget or put it off, those weeds are a problem
‘Cause it’s back breaking labour when they’re tall.
If the weeds go to seed then you’ve got another issue
‘Cause they keep comin’ up again for years
So get ‘em when they’re small, you can hoe or pull ‘em all
Get ‘em out each time they reappear.
As the summer moves on, ‘bout the middle
There are critters of course, big and little
To deal with ‘em all, is like a riddle
Each one demands a different recourse.
There are slugs and worms, and caterpillars
There are gophers and voles, and other nibblers
Birds and bugs, and the neighbour kids
They all want a piece of your gardening work.

So the harvesting time for the veggies of your labour
Will depend upon the species that you grow
The spinach and the lettuce seem to come pretty early
And often means a second time to sow.
Then later come the peas, the beans and zucchini
And the other summer squashes that you love
Then the corn, and tomatoes, the carrots and potatoes
Like an avalanche of produce from above.
Then the Frost King strolls, up the middle
Plays a chilly tune, with his fiddle
Though the vines are iced, just a little
It’s enough to stop the growing for the year.
So it’s gather the vines, in a pile
To compost ‘em all, is the style
Sing a song of spring, for a while
When winter is over you can do it all again.

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