A Victorian Gardener’s Tale: Stephen Sears and His South Yarmouth Plot

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This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:

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June 2, 1893

On this day, dear readers, we find ourselves transported to the quaint environs of South Yarmouth, Massachusetts, where a most diligent and upright citizen, one Stephen Sears, put quill to paper in his cherished journal.

At the venerable age of 71, this Sunday School teacher and devoted horticulturist gifted us with a glimpse into the verdant world of a Victorian garden.

Imagine, if you will, the scene:

A warm June day, the air thick with the promise of summer, as our esteemed Mr. Sears embarks upon his daily ritual of garden tending.

With a determination that would make even the most stalwart English gardener proud, he constructs a cage around a tree, a fortress against the dreaded caterpillar invasion.

One can almost hear the crackling of flames as he dispatches these unwelcome guests, likely the notorious tent caterpillars, to their fiery doom.

But let us not dwell on such grim matters.

Instead, let us turn our attention to the fruits of Mr. Sears' labor.

Earlier that spring, with the vigor of a man half his age, he had "plowed [the] garden and planted peas."

Can you not picture the neat rows of emerald shoots, reaching toward the Massachusetts sky?

As June unfurled its warm embrace, our intrepid gardener noted, "summer is here, hot and dry."

Undaunted by the scorching sun, he "transplanted [his] tomato vines and hoed [his] watermelons."

One can only marvel at the dedication of a man who, in his eighth decade, still tends to his plot with such unwavering devotion.

Day after day, Mr. Sears labored in his garden, watering his precious plants and occasionally bestowing upon them the gift of seaweed, nature's own fertilizer.

Oh, how the modern gardener might envy such proximity to the ocean's bounty!

After three weeks of unrelenting drought, the heavens finally opened, prompting our lyrical diarist to pen this charming observation:

The ground is wet again, and vegetation smiles.

Can you not, dear readers, feel the relief in those words?

The joy of a gardener whose beloved plants have at last received nature's own watering can?

Yet, as every seasoned horticulturist knows, with the joys of gardening come its tribulations.

As June drew to a close, Mr. Sears found himself locked in mortal combat with that most pernicious of garden pests: the potato bug.

In a moment of exasperation that surely resonates with gardeners across the ages, he wrote:

If I were to offer [a] sacrifice to the Devil it [w]ould be potato bugs in Lager Beer.

One can scarcely suppress a chuckle at this vivid imagery.

Imagine, if you will, the scene: our esteemed Sunday School teacher, driven to contemplate devilish sacrifices by these voracious insects!

As we close this chapter in Mr. Sears' horticultural adventures, let us reflect on the timeless nature of the gardener's struggle.

From battling pests to rejoicing in rain, from the backbreaking labor of plowing to the simple joy of seeing one's plants thrive, the essence of gardening remains unchanged.

Mr. Sears' journal serves as a delightful reminder that whether in Victorian Massachusetts or our modern gardens, the rhythm of nature and the passion of the gardener endure.

Until our next horticultural history lesson, dear readers, may your gardens flourish and your potato bugs find employment elsewhere!

Stephen Sears
Stephen Sears
The homestead of Stephen Sears
The homestead of Stephen Sears

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