Lessons from my Garden

Miranda
I have pole beans. Grandma Muhs would be proud. Although she was more of a bush bean lady.

I didn’t grow up in Houston. I grew up surrounded by several generations of Midwestern gardeners. It has taken a while for me to grow used to planting brassica transplants in January and tomatoes in March. I’m lying, I’m still not used to it.

In the past few years I’ve gotten better about planting on time. Last year I did my first tries at seed starting in my garage with grow lights. I had success. My garden last year made me feel like my attempts were not in vain. I was going to be a legit gardener, rather than just a dabbler. Victories in growing helped push away the tides of horticultural impostor syndrome.

I hit a personal rough spot in December. It carried on through January and rather than doctoring myself with garden related self care, which brings me joy and a sense of accomplishment, I buried myself in video games and books to try to escape. I only went outside to see my chickens. I poured what productivity I had left into work and left little for home.

This shelter at home has allowed me to finally take a bit of a breath and reflect. As I reflect, I feel a sense of regret. Regret that I feel back into the cycle that I promised myself I would not do. The cycle of not allowing me time to create and grow things. Also the more tangible regret of not having anything substantive to plant in my garden. I have one bed that just might weather the heat. Seedlings that were direct sown have been been eaten by squirrels. I missed the boat on most every thing .

From this period of life I learned that I need to do just a little. Expend a little time, a little energy. That by doing just a little I will step back and find that I’ve done more than I thought. It might even inspire me to do a little bit more.

The second lesson that I learned is that there is always the next season, there is always next year. Fall will be here before we know it. Make a plan for the future. Future plans and gardens mean you are planting hope.

The third lesson is that squirrels suck. Seriously.

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