I’m stupid silly for our garden lately.
We are growing Swiss chard and tomatoes, three kinds of peppers and cucumbers all from seeds. Like, buy little seeds in a package, grow them in cups inside and then plant them in the garden. Now they’re plants. Real, green plants.
That’s the crazy part, we didn’t buy little plants at Home Depot and plant them. These were teeny tiny seeds. How does that happen? I know it happens all of the time, I did the styrofoam cup thingie. I’m sure that’s how all those yummy veggies get to the grocery store, but to grow to it right by my own house is…well, it’s glorious.
I can’t stop going out there and looking at these little plants. The chard is almost big enough to cut and eat. That’s such an incredible thing for me, growing something that I can eat. I take road trips, I know about farms and I see farmers growing things all the time, but until recently, it felt like something other people did, professionals.
Growing a garden is powerful, sort of makes me think there’s nothing we can’t do. I mean if we can get seeds to make themselves into plants…that’s pretty much magic. We are food producers, farmers, suppliers of sustenance. No certificate, no degree. Just work, dirty fingernails and water. Fantastic.
Throughout my life, I have convinced myself there are so many things I can not do, things I’m not qualified for or have no business doing.
It’s really lovely that one of the most important things in life, providing nourishment, is now right in our side yard. No wonder Jack was willing to trade his cow for those beans. Growing things is super cool fairytale stuff.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Growing tired.