128 GARDENING WITH BRAINS 1^ 



ties, nor would I personally care to take out 

 such an insurance. I might have got some com- 

 pensation money in 1920 because most of my 

 salad plants went to seed instead of heading; 

 or because some of our potatoes, delayed by the 

 lack of rain, did not ripen before frost; or be- 

 cause the same exceptional lack of rain (for 

 seven weeks) made my com average only one 

 ear to a stalk instead of two; but money wasn't 

 what I wanted and worked for. It was the 

 extra-fancy vegetables that I wanted; those 

 you cannot buy. 



Farmers seldom raise them, because they 

 think they haven't time for intensive gardening. 

 It is usually pitiable to see their gardens, when 

 they do have any: a row of ordinary lettuce, 

 too crowded to be able to head; a row of equally 

 overcrowded cucumbers; and enough peas and 

 beans and sweet com to last a week or two — 

 that's the usual thing. The rest of the year they 

 eat canned vegetables or none at all. 



Contrast that with my garden. In spite of 

 seven weeks' drought, we had seven weeks 

 of sweet com and five or six of luscious peas, 

 with enough left over (as well as of beans, 

 carrots, and beets) for preserving in jars, 

 some of which we took to New York, while 

 the rest up here lasted us till harvest time 

 came again. Intensive gardening did it — it 

 was a sort of insurance — crop insurance 

 — far better than commercial insurance, because 



