Marvin Gardens

2:00 a.m.; February, 1969

The Jensen’s log cabin home, Lake Otis Road.

Sleeping snug in our beds, we were all startled by a chorus of hollering going on. "Kids, get out of bed and come help.”

Mom and dad were in a panic.

I was twelve at the time, my youngest sister Laura was about seven years old. We scrambled from our covers, all wearing pajamas. Dad, seeing us ready but confused, said “Put on your slippers and jackets, we have to bring all of the flowers into the house."

My mom was a master gardener and landscaper. Our family’s gardens were immaculate. She created an oasis for ferns, begonias, geraniums, marigolds and visiting hummingbirds. The extended walkway up to the front porch was practically paved with Seward Highway slate that she collected with frequent back and forth trips in the 1964 Country Sedan station wagon. It’s no wonder she had a bit of a hunched upper and lower spine through her later years (as did that old station wagon.)

Prolific with her gardening, she started supplying plants to friends around town. Soon, her entrepreneur side kicked in and she created a greenhouse business called Marvin Gardens. We played a lot of Monopoly and other board games.

The business grew and so did her reputation. Customers flocked up and down the long driveway throughout the week. And, our home became an annual stop for Anchorage’s garden tour.

Wintering over plants - her own and her customers - was a part of her business model. From October-April, the greenhouse was stocked full of plants that were waiting for their next summertime. This wasn’t very labor intensive. But maintaining the environment was critical. Temperature, humidity, soil acidity and controlling light were all part of the job.

January is when the work began for mom. That’s when the seed, plant and starter catalogs arrived. I remember that Burpee was one of her favorites. Mom spent hours bending dog ears on the magazine pages. After another couple years, sticky notes were invented. That was a blessing to mom.

With orders placed, the shipments would arrive in February. Dad had already prepped the four greenhouses. One of her greenhouses was the first of its kind in Anchorage - a geodesic dome based on a design by Buckminster Fuller. The Dome is where she grew her roses. She was partial to the Martha Washington variety.

Preparing for the gardening season included filling the propane and oil tanks, replacing worn fluorescent tube lighting fixtures, building and repairing flower benches, getting the water hoses running (with buried heat cables) and anything else on mom’s checklist.

The flower starts always arrived in perforated cardboard boxes. They were left in their boxes just long enough to begin enjoying their new climate-controlled environment. Then they would be unpacked and placed into new soil that was meticulously formulated with gentle fertilizers and pre-mixed vermiculite. The latter was important for drainage and moisture retention.

So much work went into this process. Sometimes it involved the kids. Using pencils, we poked holes into the soil and dropped seeds (marigolds, lobelia, calendula, forget-me-nots, violas, etc.) sparingly. With disciplined oversight, Mom would set the trigger to “gentle” on the hand held sprinkler and let us gently spritz the baby flowers and planted seeds. Eventually, dad created a self-watering/misting system for the main greenhouse.

Then it happened. A call to arms, hands and short little legs. We four kids ran downstairs to see what had happened. “The oil furnace has gone out in the big greenhouse,” dad said. "We need to bring all of the flowers into the house before they freeze."

This was in late February. Rondy time. Freezing weather outside time. Get our little butts in gear time. And, we did.

In addition to being a fine attorney, Dad was a magician when it came to fixing things and putting together systems. Our wake up call was due to a temperature alarm that had triggered. The oil furnace that heated mom’s Quonset-styled greenhouse had failed. The temperature in the greenhouse was down to 40 degrees. Thousands of starts were already beginning to wilt.

Back and forth as quickly as possible. A family of six in action. Flowers and seedlings still dripping damp soil from their evening watering. We laid the flower flats on the floor, on the sofas, the beds and any flat place available. The dogs, excited by the hysteria, were ready to bounce alongside and on top of everything. The black and yellow labradors, our Lhasa Apso “Vicky” and cat named “Clyde” were banished to one of our upstairs bedrooms.

Dad, well he wasn’t able to help with the flowers. He was too busy looking for and using tools to fix the fan and heat in the greenhouse.

Morning came. Most of the flowers and starters survived the chaos. Dad fixed the things that made mom happy. That made us all happy, though, a little more sleepy-eyed than usual. I’m pretty sure we all earned a “Get of jail free card” for the extra effort.

Mom operated Marvin's Gardens for more than two decades. When my parents, Ken and Nancy Jensen, retired they built a home in Cooper Landing. She continued to grow plants and created marvelous landscaping on their property alongside Kenai River. I imagine that some of the locals still have perennials that originated from her special touch.

—dj—

Copyright Protected by David Jensen

david@alaskaportraits.com