For the past million or so years, every spring, I have ideas of grandeur. Ideas of having and maintaining gardens galore. Flower gardens, herb gardens, veggie gardens -- gardens, gardens, gardens. And by the this time, every year, instead of having gardens I would have weed patches from having my ideas bigger than my time.
This year was different. This year I abandoned all ideas of cultivating except for my guarded plot right up next to the house; and of course the rhubarb, sage and chive plants along with the two apple trees. But you get my meaning. I cut back and fenced in my garden grandeur.
It feels good to know I can handle the weeding, and the watering. Even when the laundry is piled to the sky and the kitchen floor resembles more a beach rather than a flat vinyl surface that ties the table to the stove and refrigerator.
Last night we had our first batch of pesto. Usually I wait until later in the season for pesto, when the plants are a bit fuller. This year, why wait. I trimmed the apical meristems and we had pesto. Now the plants will grow bushier and bigger for our next batch.
We've had lettuce already, and the beans and peas are starting to fruit. The tomatoes have had little greenies for a while. And this morning I noticed some yellowing. Basil and tomato salads cannot be far behind.
The beets and corn are growing great guns as well. Best of all, I am learning that sometimes I have to reign it in to get greater growth. I think it's the same in life as well. Lessons from the garden.