“I Want Elbow-Room!”: Daniel Boone and the Gardener’s Eternal Struggle

June 7, 1769

It was on this day that our intrepid frontiersman Daniel Boone first cast his wilderness-hungry eyes upon the virgin forests of what we now call Kentucky. One can almost picture the man, standing there with his buckskins and long rifle, practically salivating at the untamed expanse before him.

The good Mr. Boone, overcome with what one can only describe as a peculiar form of sylvan ecstasy, penned in his journal what must be considered the 18th century equivalent of a love letter to unspoiled nature:

"Not a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf.

I had gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and, looking round with astonishing delight, beheld the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below."

Such poetry from a man who made his living by shooting things! Perhaps there is hope for all of us gardeners yet.

But alas, dear readers, even paradise becomes pedestrian with time. A mere 30 years later, our hero abandoned his beloved Kentucky.

Like many a restless gardener who has grown weary of their once-cherished plot, Boone followed his son to Missouri, seeking greener pastures—or perhaps simply less populated ones.

When questioned about his rather abrupt departure from the land he once rhapsodized about, Boone would invariably reply with the exasperation familiar to any gardener who has found their favorite nursery suddenly overrun with weekend enthusiasts:

"Too crowded! Too crowded! I want elbow-room!"

One cannot help but sympathize. Is this not the eternal plight of those who love wild spaces?

We discover them, we adore them, we tell others of their splendor, and then suddenly find ourselves shoulder to shoulder with tourists and settlers and all manner of humanity.

Perhaps there is a lesson here for us gardeners.

That secret spot where the wild orchids grow?

That hidden nursery with the remarkable selection of heirloom seeds?

That undiscovered garden center with reasonable prices?

Keep them to yourselves, my dears. Lest you too find yourself muttering "too crowded" as you pack your gardening tools and head west.

The wilderness that so enchanted Boone has long since been tamed, of course. Kentucky's "ample plains" and "beauteous tracts" now host subdivisions and shopping centers rather than bison and elk. Progress, they call it. However, one suspects that Mr. Boone would have a different word for it entirely.

And so, dear gardeners, when you next feel that your little Eden has become too known, too visited, too admired by others, remember Daniel Boone. Sometimes the only solution is more elbow-room.