The Lexicographer’s Garden: Noah Webster’s Verdant Vocabulary
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
June 1, 1785
On this day, dear readers, we find ourselves in the company of one Noah Webster (a veritable library awaits the curious), a man whose name has become synonymous with the very language we speak.
Picture, if you will, this esteemed lexicographer boarding the modest vessel George in Baltimore, his mind no doubt brimming with words yet to be defined.
But let us not dwell on dictionaries, for today we celebrate Webster not for his linguistic prowess, but for his horticultural passions.
Imagine the delight that must have danced across his face as he sampled cherries for the first time in Norfolk, Virginia.
Such was the impact of this simple fruit that it later found a place of honor in his own orchard. One can almost taste the sweet revelation that must have burst upon his palate!
Webster, it seems, was not content to merely define the natural world – he sought to cultivate it with his own hands.
His garden was a veritable cornucopia of earthly delights: parsnips stretching their pale fingers through the soil, carrots painting the earth orange, cucumbers sprawling with reckless abandon, beets bleeding their rich hues, and potatoes – ah, the humble potato!
Indeed, Webster's passion for this tuber bordered on the reverential.
In his dictionary, he defined it thus:
one of the cheapest and most nourishing vegetables.
But he did not stop there, oh no! Webster, in a moment of near-biblical exaltation, proclaimed:
In the British dominions and in the United States, the potato has proved to be one of the greatest blessings bestowed on man by the Creator.
One can hardly help but smile at such unbridled enthusiasm for a mere root vegetable. Yet, is this not the very essence of gardening – finding divinity in the soil beneath our feet?
Webster's love for the land extended beyond his garden walls.
He held farming in the highest esteem, describing it as:
the most necessary, the most healthy, the most innocent, and the most agreeable employment of men.
Ah, how those words must resonate with us, fellow tillers of the earth!
In Amherst, Webster's domain grew as organically as his beloved crops.
From a modest plot, his land swelled to ten acres – a veritable Eden of his own making.
Here, he erected a barn, a chaise house, and planted a garden that was the envy of the town.
Can you not picture the orchard, heavy with apples, pears, and peaches?
The sweet white grapes dangling temptingly from their vines?
So, dear gardeners, as we tend our own plots, let us remember Noah Webster.
May we approach our horticultural endeavors with the same passion he brought to both words and plants.
For in cultivating our gardens, do we not also cultivate our souls?