Help was on the way. I rushed to the backyard hoop garden to uncover the rototiller. Each year after tilling the garden, I wait for the engine to cool off, then wrap a large blue tarp around the machine and tie it with a sturdy cord. As if unwrapping a long-anticipated Christmas present, I impatiently untied the knot in the cord and pulled the tarp off. I worried that this would be the year the ancient machine would finally give up its ghost. Although I generally only work the garden soil each spring, this old rear-tine rototiller does such an excellent job, that my garden thrives each year.

Tugging and rocking the unwieldy machine, I moved it out of the corner where it had been stored since last spring. I wanted there to be room around it to pour in fresh gasoline and to pull the starter cord. The minute the engine was started, I planned to grab the handlebars and till the hardened soil.

When I was younger, I could start the tiller myself. But each spring for the last several years, I’ve failed. I can’t pull the starter cord fast enough. This year I decided not to even try. I called someone for help. When the volunteer arrived a few minutes later, he pulled the cord twice and the faithful old engine powerfully awoke from its year-long nap.

Rain never falls on the garden soil contained within the high hoop building. The plants depend on a drip irrigation system set up annually after the soil is prepared. With no irrigation for the last seven months, the tiller kicked up clouds of dust. I wear an N95 mask to prevent introducing dirt to my lungs. I’d finished only two circuits of the garden when my oldest daughter’s van pulled into the yard. Three of my grandchildren were going to stay overnight to help me with the garden work.

Luke is fifteen years old and has worked in the garden with me before. Gemma is ten and Blaise is eight. They wanted to help, too. I had an extra mask for Luke, so we took turns working the rototiller. We tilled east to west, then north to south to make sure there were no ridges in the soil.

I explained to Blaise and Gemma how important it was for workers to drink a lot of water when doing hot, sweaty jobs. They supplied Luke and me with all the water and bouquets of dandelions mixed with lawn violets that we could ever want.

Pleased to have such a big job completed, I was ready to quit for the day. But Luke remembered that I had said the garden needed to be raked before we could lay the drip tape and plastic mulch. While I prepared supper, he quickly finished that job.

Early the next morning, hoping that it would be cooler in the plastic-covered building, we began laying the drip-tapes and connecting them to the head-line pipe. All three children were interested and rushed to help. It was good for them to learn how to do these things. I know I’ll want them to do it for me in the future.

Besides tilling the garden, one other job that I dread is rolling out and securing the plastic mulch over the drip tapes. Both sides of each sheet must be covered with soil to keep the wind from tearing it out. Tucking it in is an arduous, tiring job, but must be done. I discovered that I could use a hoe to make a trench on both sides of the drip-tape while my grandchildren rolled the mulch into place. Meticulously holding down the edges of the plastic, they filled the trenches in with soft, freshly tilled soil.  

With the four of us working together, the garden preparation was done by noon! While everyone showered, I put the finishing touches on a chicken dinner that everyone hungrily devoured. For dessert we had ice cream cones to eat in the car as I drove them back to their home.

Returning to the garden, I slowly pushed the old tiller into its corner and covered it with a blue tarp. There was no reason to rush like I had earlier in the week. I carefully wrapped the cord around the tarp to hold it in place to protect it for another year.

I felt blessed. Not only had I spent special time with my gardening grandchildren, but my garden was now ready to plant.