The earth has many lessons to teach. My garden has become quite a focus for me. After 20 years in the desert, I am determined to grow food. Growing up in Ohio, gardening was taken for granted. I pretty much just threw seeds on the ground and everything came up in abundance. Imagine the shock of moving to a brown, barren land, scorched by sun and ravaged by wind, where nothing but tumbleweed and other spiny, scrubby, unidentifiable things come out of the ground. I tried to grow things for the first several years, then gave up when all my tender young seedlings were repeatedly burnt to a crisp by this infernal climate.
But the desire for intentional living and knowing where my food comes from (along with the Polish peasant genes that awaken each spring) have renewed my determination and efforts. So now I have five raised beds in the front yard, all in varying states of growth. The potatoes, onions, garlic, and shallots are a bright green patch that seem to be thriving. The tomatoes and peppers have blossoms. The herbs have awakened and lend their scent and flavors to our food on a daily basis. I am happy each morning when I walk out the door to inspect the beds, except...
...(here's where the patience part comes in) about two and a half weeks ago I planted some bean and sunflower seeds. I'd come out every day to water and weed and wait, but they did not put in an appearance. I had seen a mockingbird perched on the edge of the beds and began to wonder it it had eaten my seeds. This past weekend, I decided I'd better get something else into those beds, so I put in some cucumber seeds. As I was digging, I found a bean seed that had sprouted, but not surfaced yet. In my impatience, I had meddled with something that was coming along just fine. I checked where I'd planted the sunflowers, and sure enough, two have poked their leaves out...
The Mother surely runs on her own schedule and there is no hurrying Her. It occurs to me that impatience is a form of violence which leads us to do things that we wouldn't normally do if we'd just learn to wait. Lesson learned. I'll just wait and watch for the corn and squash and pumpkins to arrive when they are ready...Hopefully, I'll cultivate patience along with my vegetables.
3 comments:
hmm, the cultivation of patience. much possibility for philosophical pondering here...
indeed.
You are so right - there is much to be learned from watching nature take her course. I love to grow and this year my lesson is to grow less of a variety and to focus on that which will get eaten - sufficient and no more. I cannot bear to thin out seeds and everything is usually given a chance but this year, I am going to plant less. For me, that is going to be very difficult. Your post was very timely! x
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