This “wildly entertaining” memoir recounts the joys—and horrors—of trying to grow your own food (The Boston Globe).
Bill Alexander had no idea his simple dream of having a vegetable garden and small orchard in his backyard would lead him into life-and-death battles with groundhogs, webworms, weeds, and weather; midnight expeditions in the dead of winter to dig up fresh thyme; and skirmishes with neighbors who feed the deer and other vermin. Not to mention the vacations that had to be planned around the harvest, the near electrocution of the tree man, the limitations of his own middle-aged body, and the pity of his wife and kids.
When Alexander runs a cost-benefit analysis, adding up everything from the live animal trap to the Velcro tomato wraps, and then amortizing it over the life of his garden, it comes as quite a shock to learn that it cost a staggering $64 to grow each one of his beloved Brandywine tomatoes. But as any gardener will tell you, you can’t put a price on the unparalleled pleasures of providing fresh food for your family.
“Engaging, funny, and down-to-earth.” —Entertainment Weekly
“A hilarious horticultural memoir.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“A delightful guide to achieving gardening bliss.” —Minneapolis Star-Tribune
When the author of this hilarious horticultural memoir plants a large vegetable garden and a small orchard on his Hudson Valley farmstead, he finds himself at odds with almost all creation. At the top of the food chain are the landscaping contractors, always behind schedule, frequently derelict, occasionally menacing. Then there are the herds of deer that batter the electrified fence to get at Alexander's crop, and the groundhog who simply squeezes between the wires, apparently savoring the 10,000-volt shocks. Most insidious are the armies of beetles, worms, maggots and grubs that provoke Alexander, initially an organic-produce zealot, into drenching his entire property with pesticides. He braves these trials, along with hours of backbreaking labor and the eye-rolling of his wife and children, for the succulence of homegrown food. He also manages to maintain a sense of humor, riffing on everything from the ugliness of garden ornaments to the politics of giving away vegetables to friends. Alexander's slightly poisoned paradise manages to impart an existential lesson on the interconnectedness of nature and the fine line between nurturing and killing.