This week, we pulled our heirloom tomatoes out of the hoop house to make room for next spring's flowers. As I stared at the space where the tangled stems once stood, I couldn’t help but think about how much I grew alongside them this season.
This was my first year growing a production garden. It was a dream that planted itself within me years ago, and at the beginning of the growing season, I almost pulled it up before I allowed it to bear fruit.
I have the kind of brain that runs on rumination. It’s an endless cycle of exclamations of excitement, that turn to wallowing what-ifs, finally concluding in a whisper, waiving off ambition. After months of learning, crop planning, buying seeds, preparing the soil, and waiting for the last frost, I allowed fear to replace faith, settling in the final shameful stage of my thought pattern.
I tearfully turned to my parents, and trusted advisors, and shed light on the war that was being waged behind my watery eyes. They listened, and said the words we all yearn for, “I understand” and “I believe in you.” I still carried the burden of the battle, but with loved ones carrying it with me, the load lightened enough for me to lift my foot to take the next step.
So on a dreary day in February, with my plan in hand, we started one seed, and then another, until finally the benches of our greenhouses overflowed with vegetables, flowers, and herbs. Each sprouted seed was the antithesis of the cynical stories. I held onto their hope, as waves of overwhelm attempted to wash me away.
And then the last frost arrived, and the blur began.
Every warming day brought something new and exciting. We prepared the beds in our market garden, planted out hundreds of crops, and installed irrigation - all for the first time in our new space. Then came weeding, trellising, pruning, oh so much pruning, and attempting to figure out what pest, disease, or animal was trying to take down my plants that week. It was a challenge, but it was one I met with growing confidence.
But, as the first fruits of my labor ripened, I didn’t allow myself the space to enjoy them. If I wasn’t working, I was comparing my season to my fellow growers. Every success was held up against theirs, while failures were all my own. That comparison, coupled with increasing temperatures and decreasing rest, caused me to spiral - pulling me into a vortex that sucked the joy from my own experiences.
So I did something that I’ve resisted my entire life - I asked for help, and it arrived in the form of my sweet friend Holly. Once again, sharing the burden lightened the load. With her aid, I escaped the whirlpool of worry in favor of still waters that reflected a truer image in time to savor the summer.
I believe everything we engage with in this life is meant to be a teacher.
The people we are in relationship with, the occupation we hold, the passions we burn for - they all illuminate parts of ourselves that need to be strengthened or shed.
After we glean what we can, we are meant to share our stories with others, so that they may grow alongside us.
I learned a lot this season.
I learned not to let fear overcome faith.
To ask for help when I need it.
To make time to rest.
To resist the trap of comparison.
And that I can plant fewer jalapeño plants next time.
So as I begin planning for future seasons, I do so with those lessons planted within me. I can’t wait to see how they continue to grow.
Love,
Leila
Thank you thank you for sharing. What a lovely, honest declaration about learning. Life is hard but beautiful. You have put into words what so many of us feel when we try something new that we feel passionate about. Best wishes to you!
Leila, very nicely written and how brave of you to share. Although, I hope all the followers of this blog are of the same kindness and generosity. From what I see you did terrific in the greenhouses and gardens. Keep growing - in spirit and in plants!
Thank you for sharing Leila!
Leila, I so enjoyed reading and listening to your story of seasons. Thanks for sharing your honest story.
What a beautiful post! Thank you for sharing your struggles and being honest. It all appears to be so easy. You are an inspiration!