A tribute to my Ammamma- Kamalaveni
My passion for gardening stemmed from my maternal grandmother, who cultivated everything from carrots to coconuts to croci, all tucked strategically in her yard. She grew plants for their nutritional, medicinal, and ornamental values. The garden I grew up in was in a suburb called Old Tambaram, Chennai in Southern India, a tropical paradise with three significant seasons- scorching summers, short winters, and monsoons.
She did all this by raising eight kids, twelve grandkids, and a house filled with recurring duties, entertaining invited and uninvited guests. I still cannot fathom how she effortlessly balanced them in a pre-internet era to be a successful horticulturist, a gourmet cook, and the finest storyteller. Her “Garden of Eden” was a haven for multiple animals- cows, chickens, pigeons, parrots, sparrows, mynahs, insects, reptiles, etc.
The kaleidoscopic, aromatic, therapeutic effects of all she grew enticed me to gardening. I remember being three or four years old when she took me under her wing and showed me the “vines” I vividly reminisce melding filter coffee grounds and tea brews into her rose bushes with my first garden tool- a spoon.
Any chore she delegated for me was done with absolute delight, even if it was weeding- as it involved being incharge of a few square footage of her greenery, a happy place. I spent most of my time admiring plants for their distinguishable size, shape, texture, and growth habits.
You can envision my delight when I was promoted to aid in harvesting produce. I loyally pursued Grandma as she harvested fruits like Sweet limes, Guavas, Custard Apples, and Pomegranates, and my greatest pleasure was to be the hands that grappled the ripe fruits and appreciated their aroma.
I learned how to identify when the veggies were ready for harvest – Okra, Peppers, Tomatoes, and vine crops with a gentle squeeze, root veggies like potatoes when they bloom, radishes and carrots when they thrust their necks through the dirt, Onions when their stalks yellowed, melons by tapping and listening to its hollow sound, so on and so forth.
Grandma organically fertilized the soil with composted kitchen scraps, chicken, and cow manure. Mulched with dried hay when needed, watered gently by trenching around the plants. Her garden was plagued by insects like mealy bugs, aphids, leaf miners, and spider mites; she employed one of three methods to combat them- neem paste diluted in water, Ginger, green chilies, and Garlic paste diluted in water, or sprinkling wood ash on the plants and around the stalks.
The following year, she would grow flowers and herbs with the veggies for a naturalistic repelling of the harmful bugs and attracting the beneficials. She sometimes grew sacrificial plants to lure the destructing insects like dill, marigold, nasturtiums, mint, marjoram thereby saving her produce.
She grew fragrant blooms like Jasminium fluminense (Nithyamalli), Jasminium auriculatum (Mullai), Jasminium sambac ( Malli), Coral Jasmine (Pavazhamalli), Tuberose (Nilasampangi), Tonkin Jasmine (Kodi Sampangi), Ylang ylang (manoranjitham), Plumeria, ornamental crossandra (Kanakambaram yellow, orange and pink) Philipine violets (December flowers pink, white, violet and variegated) , Chlorodendrum philipinium ( Chendu malli )and much much more, most of those blooms adorned the hairs of granddaughters.
She also created garlands from her garden blooms like Chrysanthemums (Samandhi both yellow and white), Marigolds, and a tricolored garland (kadambam) with Crossandras, Jasmines, sweet marjoram (maruvam) and Artemesia pallens (Dhavanam).
Ammamma will perpetually be my inspiration, an integral component in all my design and implementation of handcrafts, including gardening. I watched and learned from the true Master Gardener, my grandma – we call her Ammamma meaning -Mom’s mom KAMALA, whose name means Lotus, who named me SENCHU after a rare fruit, so you can say the genes have passed through our names. She always will flourish and live in my heart and soul forever.
I have always gardened in some way, shape, and scale. When I moved to the USA, I had a balcony garden in Orange County, Zone 10B, and added my touch by extending plants and a pumpkin patch in Hennepin County, Zone 4B; the most successful garden I had was in Scott County Zone 4B where I had a chance to start from scratch- over few decades -an orchard with apples, pears, plums, cherries, berries, walnuts and hazelnuts; a greenhouse with eight raised beds for the elaborate vegetable garden; blooms and plants that met nutritional, medicinal and ornamental significance. Currently, I garden in Parker County, Zone 7B, where all my prior knowledge got a hard reset as I relearn about planting water-wise and drought-tolerant natives and cultivars.
Ammamma is carrying me with her garden as the backdrop.
I want to end this story with an anecdote. As you would have guessed, I pestered Grandma for allowing me to do chores in her garden. One such time, she sent me a basket full of stones and jute twines that I had to tie on the floral end of Snake gourds. I came prepared for the task at hand. I set up my workstation under the trellis without disturbing the understory plants. I counted about ten baby gourds that needed my help. So, I tied the stone to the gourd as gingerly as possible, keeping them intact afterward.
However, there was one gourd that was the farthest from my reach, so I got a step stool to give me the boost and grasped the tail end to tie the stone; for reasons unknown, it was slipping away; I didn’t give up, reached on my tippy toes and accomplished the task- but the gourd was rising into the vine, and on my peripheral vision, i glimpsed something glaring and lunging at my eyes. I tumbled hastily as the charging persisted, so I skedaddled, trampling over all the other plants i was protecting, only to be chased by a vine snake. I narrowly escaped a nasty bite that day and learned to be vigilant of my other animals that enjoy grandma’s garden.
