Over the course of the last few weeks, my fingers have been doing more digging than typing. With a year-round tropical growing season, it’s never a bad time to put plants in the ground. And after six months of settling into our new abode, we finally felt ready for the garden.
With a multitude of projects on the Bohemian’s mind (banana patch, pineapple patch, water catchment, a worm farm, etc.), he’s turned the garden over to me. He’s always been the one in the family with the green thumb, so the endeavor has been a little daunting.
The only way that got me through the process of digging the beds was to chant a mantra to myself: “This is an imperfect garden. It will be full of mistakes.”
Thus far, however, the garden’s been holding at that rather ‘perfect’ stage. The phase when all of the plants are new and fresh, full of potential, and requiring only a daily watering. Their fluffy beds are still free from weeds, and the local pests have yet to discover the greenery.
Every day I’ve been watching the progress of the plants, and was thrilled to discover the first cucumber tendril taking hold of the fence. I felt like the mother of a toddler taking its first step. The evolutionary milestone being so fundamentally basic, yet seeming like magic.
Ha ha! Wow! It works! Just like that…
So far, so good. The little imperfect garden is growing along just perfectly.