Garden Log 7-1-19
If you ask me why I garden I will say, “For the sheer joy of it!”
But it’s really not that simple. Yes I get so much pleasure out of digging in the dirt, tilling it, weeding it and turning in fertilizer. (I’m sincere when I say this.) There’s something really rewarding when you look at soil that has been prepped for planting.
I also enjoy painstakingly potting a tiny seed and waiting in anticipation to see if something will grow from it. The excitement when a tiny green stem begins to emerge from the soil or when the stem finally pops out and stands upright.
Babysitting the seedling each day, then putting it outside in a shady place to harden off, each day giving the little seedling more and more independence also gives me joy. The disappointment when a brisk unexpected wind or careless cat knocks over the small container can make my heart skip a beat. When I have to become a seedling EMT performing life saving measures to keep the little plant from dying, somehow brings such a feeling of accomplishment.
Finally the joy of seeing flowers pop out, turning into little mini clumps of fruit that will soon be ripe and ready to eat are the final stages of accomplishment and joy for me in gardening.
But I would be lying if I said that is all there is to it.
I garden because it’s mine, all mine and no one else’s! It’s the one thing I do that I don’t have to fill a quota, I don’t have to make a deadline and I don’t have to market it!
For me gardening is NOT a side-gig, or an obligation someone else has thrust upon me. If I am late in watering or fertilizing and my plants wither or wilt no one chastises or blames me, no one looks at me with disappointment and my world does not crumble.
Gardening is the one thing I allow myself to enjoy. If I screw it up, I don’t beat myself up. If wind or animals destroy it I don’t find ways to blame myself for lack of anticipating doom. If the plant doesn’t bear fruit I don’t cry for the loss of something that was never meant to be. If I forget to harvest the fruit no one tells me people are starving in Africa to make me feel guilty.
My garden is my sanctuary, my place to go to watch plants grow. Life in my garden be it ever so small and humble grows more than tomatoes, it grows patience, perseverance and pride.
It preserves my sanity, weeds out my problems and harvests my imagination. It helps me enjoy the fruits of my labor but allows me to forgive my failures. It teaches me, it talks to me and when I’m feeling down it calls to me.
My garden is the closest to Eden that I will ever get, and that’s OK by me!
|Planting Hope and Hopefully Sowing Strength!|