But do not be afraid of them; remember well what the Lord your God did to Pharaoh and to all Egypt. (Deuteronomy 7:18)
I
usually write about this in December, but events brought it to mind in the past
few days. I have been gardening for years, and every spring, I go through the same stress. I need to get the
plants in the ground now and it doesn’t matter that it’s only April 1
and we’re likely to get cold weather and possibly snow at least a couple more
times. I’m not alone in this. The garden center where I work was busier in
April than it is now. Once I do get them in the ground, it seems like I spend
forever agonizing. They aren’t growing. Whine, kvetch, groan, moan, whimper,
grouse and stamp my not so little feet. I’ve failed again. Not only have I
failed as a gardener, but in so doing, I’ve failed as a butterfly nurturer.
A few
days ago, my mind finally informed me that my garden is finally taking shape.
It’s beginning to be a garden. I’ve started harvesting, and some of what I’m
harvesting, I’m harvesting in abundance. I also found three Black Swallowtail caterpillars
on my dill. And just as those facts finally penetrate the fog of disappointment
in my mind, Facebook pops up with a memory with pictures of the garden from one
year ago, finally getting going.
I will
also point out that last year, I started my garden at the end of April, and had
to replace several plants that never got started. This year, I waited (for the
most part) until the week before Memorial Day.
There
are several lessons here. First, it doesn’t seem to matter whether you plant
early or wait until the official planting season. It still takes until about the end of June for the plants to
get going. That means planting three or four weeks early won’t bring in
tomatoes any faster. Secondly, gardens have to go through a “yuck factor” time –
a time before they become the gorgeous plants you want them to be. That time is
longer if you’re impatient and plant early. And fourthly, keeping information
like this somewhere helps you learn such lessons. I caught it this year using Facebook, but I’ve also recorded
it in my gardening journal so that when I’m having hissy fits because I can’t
plant yet, or because I planted and they’re not being what I want yet, I can
look back and note the critical information that they’re not supposed to. This
is normal. This is, in fact, good, and I need to simmer down. It means that
with regard to gardening, at least, I now have learned the pattern that God
created things to follow.
This
is also why we need to journal about what is going on in our lives – even if it’s
only when something impresses us. That short account might be what helps you
through the next crisis.
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