A couple of years ago we reclaimed the ground under the wood pile in the backyard, and started planting a garden. It's a small 30 x 40 patch of ground that in my pre-teenage years was the location of our raspberry patch. We spent several weeks removing the old wood, we cut down some trees, and now we have a pretty nice garden spot.
Over the years, dad used different parts of the backyard for our garden. In the picture, my mom and brothers/sisters are shown when the garden was further back, right in front of the corrals. Then the garden spot was moved to the area in front of the chicken coop, where it was when I was old enough to help. Even though I enjoyed the results of the work, it seemed a daunting task to weed and take care of everything we had planted.
One of my clearest gardening memories comes from the year I was assigned to keep the potatoes free of “potato bugs”. I've since learned that Colorado Potato Beetle is the official name of this pest. These beetles were quite the problem in those days, doing their best to eat the plants. We’ve grown a few rows of potatoes in the backyard since reclaiming the space, but luckily we haven’t seen those same beetles on our potatoes.
My dad indicated that I could be a big help that year by keeping the beetles off the potatoes. He gave me a quart-size oil can, one of the cardboard ones with metal ends. The contents of the can had been used for the last oil change in the family car or for his truck, with just a little bit left inside. My job was to routinely scour the potato plants to pick off any of the offending beetles, and drop them into the oil can through the little hole that had been made by the oil spout.
To encourage my potato guarding efforts he proposed a compensation plan. The “bounty” was a penny for every beetle that I had picked off the potatoes and dropped into the oil can. The greater reward to the family would be less beetle-eaten potato plants and a better crop.
I accepted the challenge, and along with my other gardening duties, I took to the potato patch often, to make sure I had every beetle possible in my oil can. Weeding was always a chore, watering was a bit more enjoyable, but picking the beetles off the potatoes was the best of all.
I’d like to think that we had the best harvest of potatoes ever, because of my diligence at keeping the plant-eating beetles in check. I don’t know if it was better than any other year’s crop or not, but I do remember what happened when we opened the oil can to count out the beetles.
Sitting on the back porch, my dad cut the metal top off of the cardboard side and began tallying up my work. After considerable effort to keep the bit of oil that was the beetle’s final resting place inside the can, we reached one hundred. Somewhere near that point I was offered a deal. My dad looked at the remaining beetles in the can, and said, I will give you $2.50 total. I don’t think he was trying to pay less than what was due - it was just a chance to keep the oily mess to a minimum.
I declined the offer. I wanted to see how many beetles there really were in the can. Dad continued counting, and finally came up with around 500 of the little oil-soaked beetles. I was as impressed as he was. I knew I had a lot of beetles in the can, but didn’t think there were that many.
I don’t remember what I did with the nearly 500 pennies that were my reward for a summer of beetle collecting, but recalling a memory like that from the gardens of my youth is priceless.
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