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The attractions of gardening, I think, at least for a certain number of gardeners, are neurotic and moral. Whenever life seems pointless and difficult to grasp, you can always get out in the garden and get something done. Also, your paternal or maternal instincts come into play because helpless living things are depending on you, require training and encouragement and protection from enemies. In some cases, as with beans and cucumbers, your children—as it were, begin to turn upon you in massive numbers, growing more and more each morning and threatening to follow you into the house to strangle you in their vines.
我想，至少对一部分园丁来说，园艺的吸引力是精神上的。每当生活看上去毫无意义并难以把握的时候，你在园子里都可以得到解脱并且找到事情来做。此外，你身上的父性或母性的本能开始起作用，因为那些无助的生命依赖着你，需要你去培养、鼓励，并需要你去保护它们免受敌人的侵害。很多时候，那些豆子和黄瓜，可以说是你的孩子——开始群起攻击你，每天清晨不断地生长，急迫地要跟着你走进房子，使你窒息在他们的藤蔓中。
Gardening is a moral occupation as well, because you always start in spring resolved to keep it looking neat this year, just like the pictures in the catalogues. But by July, you once again face the chaos of unthinned carrots, lettuce and beets. This is when my wife becomes—openly now—mistress of the garden. A consumer of vast quantities of vegetables, she does the thinning and hand-cultivating of the tiny plants. Squatting, she patiently moves down each row selecting which plants shall live and which she will cast aside.
园艺也是一种有道德要求的职业，因为你总是在开春时决心这一年要把菜园弄得井井有条，就像目录中的图片一样整齐。但是到了 7月，还未被间苗的胡萝卜、莴苣和甜菜又变得一团糟。这时，我的妻子公然成了菜园的情人。她特别喜爱吃蔬菜。她会亲手为这些小植物间苗，精心培育它们。她耐心地蹲着拨弄每一垄幼苗，选择哪些该留下来，哪些要丢弃。
