Long ago, in our grandparents’ day, vegetable gardening was considered an economical way to produce food for the table. Gardeners were generally thought to be frugal folk who exchanged their time and labor for “free” vegetables.

The most thrifty among those old-time gardeners even saved seeds each year so that they didn’t have to make an investment in next year’s vegetable crops. Many who gardened in the country watered from a well, or they didn’t water at all. Bottom line: The inputs in this mode of gardening amounted to the sweat of the brow.

On Sunday, I found myself light years away from this quaint fantasy. As I was checking out at the second greenhouse I had visited that afternoon, the clerk said cheerfully, “That will be $90.98.” Clearly, this was no eye-popping moment in her day. The person who paid up before me hauled off twice as much stuff.

As we drove home, I was poorer but more than content. One of the pleasures of spring is riding in a car with a backseat full of herbs. With all of the day’s purchases crammed into cardboard flats, leaves rub together easily. Turn a corner or hit a bump and the air fills with an intense mixture of rosemary, basil and mint.

While this experience in itself may not be worth $90.98, the convenience of not having to start vegetable and herb plants from seed comes with a price. And so does everything else about vegetable gardening.

I should note here that people who do start their own veggies end up making a serious investment as well. In addition to lights, many people use special trays, shelving, soil mixtures and heated propagation mats. In the years when I have started all of my vegetables and herbs from seed, tending my seedlings has been a second job that consumed most of my evenings.

The tradeoff for not doing that is having the clerk say, “That will be $90.98.”

The truth about gardening in the 21st century, now that we aren’t programmed to live off the land, is that it has become a consumer activity with its own retail apparatus. The culture of vegetable gardening is now centered around spending money.

Gardeners opened themselves up to this when they stopped growing food by necessity and turned it into a hobby with accouterments. The proof of this statement is in the marketing that is targeted to gardeners in the form of catalogs and magazines and the emphasis on pricey tools and gadgets.

You have to look hard anymore to find an old-style seed catalog with newsprint for pages. Even Organic Gardening, which 30 years ago was ink on pulp, is all slicked up.

I realized several years ago that I would be fighting the spending demons as long as I gardened. One of my biggest disappointments early in my gardening years was learning exactly how much of an investment it requires nowadays to do things that always appeared to be cost-efficient.

The biggie for me was buying all of the equipment to can. By the time I outfitted myself with the pressure steamer, cans and lids, a Blue Book, salt and pickling spices, I had probably invested more than I spend to buy canned vegetables in five years.

I’ve had similarly disconcerting revelations when I have the rototiller worked on. Someday, I’ve promised myself, I’ll take that class in small-engine mechanics I’ve never gotten around to. Of course, that will probably mean that I’ll have to buy tools.

Through the years I’ve gotten better. I buy very little that I don’t absolutely need in order to plant my garden. It still seems like I spend a lot, but I get a lot of pleasure in return. That, I’d say, is worth $90.98.