Read by Michael Flamel

“I’m just saying, I don’t believe in the almanac. You’re saying they plan the dates in the almanac based on the planets. The planets are in space; they’re not down here on earth telling us when to plant our vegetables,” I explain to my dad as we plant our garden. At 16, I’m skeptical about the almanac. My dad, in his forties, knows better than to doubt its advice.

It’s a bright Summer day, and we’re planting our backyard garden. It’s about 50 feet by 70 feet, surrounded by an electric fence to keep out deer, rabbits, and other animals.

“If that’s what you think, I’ll let you decide when to plant corn this year. Choose a date, and we’ll plant half a row of corn and see which is better,” my dad replies. I consider the offer. On one hand, I can prove the almanac wrong. On the other hand, if I’m mistaken, my dad will never let me forget it. Weighing the options, I water our tomato plants in silence.

“I think the perfect planting day is June 14,” I finally declare. In my mind, the logic is simple: if the planets aligned for my birth on May 14, they’ll surely realign a month later.

“Okay, buddy, we’ll do it then,” my dad says with a smile. That ends our discussion, and we resume our tasks in silence. I’m confident my corn will be just as good, if not better, than any almanac-guided corn.

June 14 arrives, and we plant half a row of corn. Then, we wait. Over the next few weeks, I keep a close eye on the corn’s progress. My dad, who usually loves teaching lessons, is surprisingly quiet about it. Despite his silence, the garden flourishes, with cornstalks stretching towards the sky.

As Summer turns to Fall, we transition from weeding and watering to harvesting a variety of vegetables. We pluck tomatoes, pick squash and cucumbers, and begin gathering and shucking our corn.

After a long day of harvesting, I come inside for dinner. “What’s for dinner tonight?” I ask my mom, who’s busy at the stove.

“Beans, cornbread, and corn,” she replies, tending to the pots.

I should have seen what was coming, but I was completely oblivious. As we sit down to eat, I notice the corn: under-ripened kernels, short cobs, and many undeveloped kernels. Silently, I take my food and sit down.

“Notice anything different about dinner tonight, Corey?” my dad asks as we finish.

“The corn wasn’t very good,” I say bluntly.

“That’s the corn you chose the planting day for. See the importance of the almanac now?” my dad says with a smile, proving his point.

With the humiliation of ruining half a row of corn, I make the first mental entry into my personal advice almanac: plant when the almanac says to plant.

I also learned there are two almanacs every gardener should know about. The first is the Old Farmer’s Almanac, a small book published yearly with weather forecasts, planting days, and a handy hole for hanging. Most farmers and gardeners trust it, and for good reason: it’s usually right.

The second, perhaps more important, is the Advice Almanac. This is an unwritten book, full of personal experiences and situational advice, passed down through generations. As you garden, you learn and add to this mental collection of wisdom.

Years later, after graduating from college, I spent a Summer with my parents. While planning the garden, my dad asked, “When do you think we should plant our corn this year?”

Leafing through my Advice Almanac, now filled with wisdom from my dad and grandmother, I smiled and said, “Well, what does the almanac say?” ❖

About the Author: Corey is a lifelong gardener with a theater degree. He enjoys writing, painting with watercolors, and once mistook Miracle-Gro for pink lemonade as a child. His passion for gardening is deeply rooted in family traditions and the lessons learned in their backyard garden.