This past week, my wife J and I planted our second garden. Last year’s garden was a mixed bag of success. The tomatoes, cucumbers and zucchini were a huge hit, creating an abundance of healthy snacks, including endless amounts of tasty pasta salad. The peppers, though fruitful, were too copious as we quickly fell behind on uses for them. The bell peppers only grew to the size that your kid’s dollhouse characters could eat, and the lone watermelon that tried to grow was even smaller. The onions, garlic and potatoes didn’t flourish at all, but as greenhorn gardeners, I’d say we have to take 70% of the blame for that as we just left them in the ground and hoped for the best. (Hint: that doesn’t work!)
J claims the garden was her idea, but I’ll argue to the death that it was mine. As a new homeowner who was (and still is) light years behind on the landscape of the house, I saw the garden as a project that was a)easy to implant and b)quick to produce results. And let me tell you—when you’re overwhelmed with the amount of work that your new house needs, seeing quick results to the toils of your labor is a very pleasant aphrodisiac.
In any event—her idea or mine—it was I who dug out the garden, spending sweaty hours pulling out weeds and leveling the soil. Together, we dug the holes and inserted the plants and together, we put up the fence to keep out the “critters.” Unfortunately, last year the bunnies still managed to get inside the fence, managed to get stuck inside the fence, clung to the side of the fence for dear life when we tried to wash them out, and eventually found their way out of the maze, only to foolishly reinsert themselves moments later to repeat the process. Suffice it to say, as a kid who grew up on cartoons, I must say that Looney Tune’s vision of presenting Bugs Bunny as a clever rabbit who was able to outsmart all his foes not only missed the bulls eye, but it missed the entire dartboard.
As we begin to watch the highs and lows of this year’s garden, predicting which plants will thrive (tomatoes, cucumbers) and which will likely succumb to the elements (cantaloupe, possibly the eggplant), I can’t help but compare the lifecycle of a garden to my own current circumstances. As one who overthinks everything, I’ve to come view it as the perfect analogy. The garden doesn’t grow immediately—it requires patience and care. Sometimes progress is plentiful, other times not. Occasionally, you have to pull the weeds out of your garden; weeds are inevitable and can’t be avoided. But with the right combination of water and sun, your garden might just provide you with a healthy amount of vegetables to last the entire summer.
What happens next?
Right now, my Life Garden is mostly weeds. Weeds are the obstacles in my path, the negative bits of information that come to light. The more I pull out, the more that grow back. Weeds are inevitable and can’t be avoided. My soil isn’t getting enough nutrients and there’s been a drought the likes of the Sahara. My garden requires patience, lots of patience, endless patience, more patience than one person can stand. If I’m lucky, soon I’ll see a sprout. Sprout equals life. Sprout equals hope. Sprout is the light in the darkness. A sprout, no matter how small, pops up and reminds you, “Hey look, if I can do it, others can do it, just give it time, we’re coming. Don’t give up on yourself just yet.”
Right now, though I’m stressed and beyond frustrated, the physical sprouts in J and I’s garden will do. If they can blossom, grow from just a tiny seed, grow from almost nothing, burst forth into a tall bountiful plant in a process that is fantastic to watch play out over the course of 90 days, then maybe a metaphorical sprout can do the same. Maybe one tiny positive piece of information can turn into a blossom, can grow from nothing, can burst fourth into a bountiful plant beyond the likes of anything I can comprehend at this very moment.
Just one sprout. That’s all I want right now. No, all I need. All that I ask to continue to give me hope, to believe in myself. The power of a sprout.
Just one.
Sleeping in the Shower 