‘I can edit anything,” was the overconfident first thought that I, not ever a gardener, had when I was asked in January 2020 to begin overseeing The Star’s annual Garden Book publication. At the time, the Covid-19 pandemic was still merely an overseas news headline that I hadn’t had to write about; the arrogance in me hadn’t yet been humbled by the true experience of editing at a newspaper.
But in 2024, four years into my tenure as editor of The Star’s East End Garden and Home section, I finally put my hands into the soil and was immediately rewarded with a sense of satisfaction unlike all of what I, a recovering honors student, had felt before. I felt a connectedness to the natural world that I didn’t know was possible. There it was: the moment the Garden Book editor became a gardener herself.
Turns out there’s a science to this. In April of 2024, right around the time I was messing around in a garden for the first time, a writer for Psychology Today posed the question, “Why does gardening feel so good?” And she provided an answer: “According to research, putting your hands in soil puts you in contact with mood-enhancing soil bacteria called Mycobacterium vaccae. These bacteria trigger the release of serotonin in your brain. Serotonin is a mood-boosting happy chemical that also works as a natural antidepressant and strengthens the immune system.”
It made so much sense. My next move, less so: I went absolutely bonkers on the seedlings at Stony Brook Southampton’s FoodLab greenhouse. I came away with seven varieties of tomatoes, four cucumber plants, shishito and bell peppers, two types of lettuce, a couple of eggplants, string beans, sweet peas, carrots, dill, basil, and one Long Island cheese pumpkin plant.
The deer would later consume most of the harvest, chomping everything except the basil, shishito peppers, and pumpkin with greedy abandon.
The pumpkin plant, in fact, thrived despite the deer — and flourished even though I’d planted it in a not-ideal place. It developed a thick, spiky vine and leaves the size of dinner plates. It busted out of its bed and sprawled some 30 ambitious feet toward the front yard, as if offended that it had been relegated to the side of the house. It was so intimidating that I dared not come near it with clippers, except when a fungus descended and pruning became necessary for its survival.
The plant humbled me even more than editing during a pandemic did. And it yielded two perfect pumpkins, both of which matured to a shy orange hue that whispered a foretelling of the autumn joys and comforts that lay ahead.
When I think about my garden in 2024, I think about that pumpkin and all that it taught me:
1.
If you need more space to grow, then claim it. Take up as much space as you need in this world.
2.
Roots are incredibly important. Really dig into your surroundings; when you struggle, it’s your roots that will help you pull through.
3.
Move at your own speed and remember that big, beautiful things take time to grow and develop.
4.
If someone says you’re unruly, take it as a compliment. Well-behaved pumpkins rarely make history.
5.
Bloom where you were planted.
6.
Better yet, bloom in spite of where you were planted.
Wishing you a fruitful and fulfilling 2025 gardening and growing season. I highly recommend planting pumpkins.
— Christine Sampson, Editor,
East End Garden and Home