Seeking Growth Within the Wait

Welp, we are still in a bit of a holding pattern with our weather. It’s hard to face a season unlike any we’ve known here, fraught with increased anxiety for a path not yet forged. What do I do? Do I do what I’ve done or do I try something different? I’ve already missed my “hard and fast” March 31 transplanting date, and so mentally I am pushing back against the internal soundtrack telling me it’s all over, I missed my transplanting date and I’m a f______.

I could try to plant my brassicas out between breaks in the rain this week if I get a wild hair, but I’d probably rather be warm and toasty by the fire. It can feel like we are behind or maybe stagnant when year to year fluctuations derail a tried and true ritual. But I have started to reframe this as something much more potent — and positive.

What if the act of suspended waiting is helping us bring forth something greater this spring? Think of the amount of time deciduous trees stand tall, suspended in time. They are not stagnant, they are alive and well. They require this dormancy to thrive. Our black walnut trees, a nuisance to the garden, are our shortest-lived trees within the growing season. They leaf out last in spring and drop their leaves first in autumn. I think they may be my new favorite teacher. I for one do not dedicate enough time to rest. Rather than being a deciduous tree, I think rest needs to be more embedded into the fabric of our weeks. (To that end, I will start to take every Sunday completely offline, including posting to the Guild, a practice that will regenerate creativity that dampens with too much time spent plugged in.)

We don’t have to be all the things or do all the things to be everything. We need to work to redefine what it means to be successful in our gardens and in our lives. And softening rather than grinding is the path that’s calling to my mind, body, and soul. I hope you’ll join me in finding ways to soften so you too can grow and flourish.

And yes, I derive extreme joy in pushing the season, so will continue down this storied path I so enjoy traveling. And this year, I am soaking in what it means to delay the start. I look to the trees and the dormant life all around us, patiently waiting their time. I truly bow to their wisdom to endure half their life in suspended animation.

I am still confident the lesson of this spring is that transplanting my earliest starts a week later will not mean a delay of harvests, but rather will mean there are multiple paths to successfully and dependably harvesting food by late April here. It is potentially refining my sowing dates ever so slightly, though early sowing is as much for low tunnels as it is for me to have lush plants to tend and seedlings to thin and nosh.

Whatever the lesson about to unfold here, it will only expand possibilities for me in future seasons. This is the potency of gardening, inviting the lessons to permeate our beings and help us evaluate our entire lives. The garden grows so much more than just food, and for that I am tearfully, heart-achingly grateful.

How are you working on reframing this bumpy start to the growing season? Comment below.

You might also like:

Establishing a Fruit Orchard DIY Cattle Panel Garden Arbor The Five Keys to Creating Our Dream Garden