Garden of Dreams ~ June 8, 1989

David Heiller

The Weather Woman on channel 10 was finishing her Saturday night report, while Cindy and I sat exhausted on the couch, half-watching, half-sleeping.

Nothing could have got our attention except the words that Rhonda Grussendorf said next: “and there’s a chance of frost in the low-lying areas.”

“Oh no, frost,” I groaned. Murphy’s Law, 14-C: The Night After You Plant Tomatoes, Frost Will Come.

Collin working on the peas in a later
 version of the Garden of Dreams...
 because for us, they were ALL
Gardens of Dreams.

I looked at the outdoor thermometer: 52 degrees. “What do you think?” I asked Cindy. Last year we had a killing frost on June 10, and here it was only June 3. But the thought of covering tomatoes on Saturday night? Expletive deleted.

“We can spray them with water in the morning before the sun hits them, that’s supposed to take care of frost damage,” Cindy said. She always says that on nights when frost may come.

We were asleep 10 minutes later.

(O.K. readers, you know what happens next. You’ve read it here before, and if you live in northern Pine County, you’ve experienced it yourself. Hard-luck chump has frost wipe out tomatoes and peppers. Newspaper editor writes hard-luck column about it, tries to make it funny.)

Wrong. It didn’t happen this year. Sunday morning, the thermometer said 50 degrees at 7:30 a.m. No frost. Not even close. Murphy lay flat on his back on the canvas, seeing stars, and he’s going to stay there.

See, this year is different, this year is the Garden of Dreams. I stole that title from the movie called “Field of Dreams.” Cindy and I saw it Friday night, celebrating our ninth anniversary of marriage.

What the heck does a baseball movie have to do with a garden? You’re stretching it, Heiller.

Maybe I am. But bear with me. First, if you like baseball, or if you have kids, or both, or neither, go see Field of Dreams. If you’re Ghengis Kahn’s first cousin, see it. In my book, it’s an unforgettable movie.

And it’s more than a baseball movie. It’s about a man, Ray Kinsella, who is looking for something, just what he’s not sure. His own identity, his father, his values? I still can’t say, because Ray can’t say.

Ray hears a voice, one that only Ray can hear. The voice gives Ray three terse messages: “If You Built It, He Will Come”; “Ease the Pain”; and “Go the Distance.” Ray, a struggling young farmer in Iowa, decides he must build a baseball diamond, and Shoeless Joe Jackson, a famous baseball player long dead, will come. So Ray shocks his neighbors and plows his corn under. He builds the diamond, and, sure enough, Shoe-less Joe shows up.

Don’t worry about how man dead for 30 years can appear in a 1919 Chicago White Sox uniform in his prime of life and hit a baseball 420 feet. He comes, and Ray’s search is on, taking him to Chicago in search of a famous author, to Chisholm, Minnesota, in search of a doctor, and back home, where the reality and fantasy come together.

It’s the kind of movie that makes you want to grab a ball and glove and play catch with your kid. Or do something crazy, like plow your corn under and build a baseball field, or whatever the voice inside you whispers.

In go the tomatoes, but Queen Ida,
is nervous about it... She was never very confident
about anything, including frosts.

Cindy and I didn’t hear any voices last Saturday. We were too busy, planting lettuce and squash, peppers and dill, cucumbers and carrots, broccoli and cauliflower, corn and spinach, beets, leeks, celery and squash. And tomatoes. Noah watered each bed as we finished, soaking them until the black soil winked and glistened in the sun. The sun shone down and puffs of clouds floated eastward and the ground turned warm to the touch and the soil turned to garden before our eyes, like Shoeless Joe Jackson, returning again, with a little hard work and a little faith.

There’s a scene in Field of Dreams where Shoeless Joe, struck with the awe of what has happened, asks Ray, “Is this Heaven?” Ray answers, “No, this is Iowa.” Last Saturday was like that. Iowa, Minnesota, a baseball field, a garden, Heaven. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

Frost or no frost.