Can't See the Garden for the Weeds

Our little plot at the community garden is just lovely, but as plots go, it is weedy. So weedy, in fact, that I would call it the weediest of all the plots there. It is even weedier than spaces that have been left untended, in fact. As much as I enjoyed the first ripe tomato of the season last night in a BLT, and as much as I'm delighting in the tall Brussels sprouts and the beautiful ruby chard and the thick bands of carrots, and as thrilled as I am to have have peppers and squash and (hopefully) bushels of tomatoes on the way, each time I visit the garden, my overriding inner monologue is, "WEEDS! WHY ARE YOU HERE? WE JUST PULLED YOU OUT! WHY ARE YOU FLOURISHING THE MOST IN OUR PLOT? WHAT ARE WE DOING WRONG?"

And once again, as it seems to happen so often in the garden (all those poets were on to something), here I find myself confronted with a life lesson---a metaphor in the making, a mantra to be unearthed. Isn't this diatribe against the wretched weediness of our space how I'm feeling about a lot of stuff, these days?

We have so many good things growing and ripening in our life---a happy marriage, an amazing kid, kind and loving family and friends, exciting part-time work, a roof over our heads (and family that has generously pitched in when student loans have given out to keep us under that roof)---but the FIRST thing I see most days is the patch of worries surrounding us, seemingly encroaching upon all of our precious space. The battle to get EJ a good kindergarten. The constant questions of how and when Mike will complete his PhD, and the pressure that comes from all sides (including from our own insides, out) to make that finish happen, leave this experience without complete financial disaster, and find a new home that can be just that---a home. The annoyance of the current renovation that our condo association is undertaking---while necessary, getting the building's vertical pipes/stacks replaced is no fun. Case in point: as I sit here in our dining room typing, I am surrounded by a toilet, a disassembled sink, a makeshift kitchen, and all of our laundry supplies, not to mention other random items.

In the most immediate and the longest-range terms, I see weeds everywhere.

I had a revelation, though, at the garden a few weeks ago. I thought to myself, "What if I stop focusing on the weeds entirely? What if I just let them grow until they are big enough to pluck out easily, but not so big that they jeopardize our plants? What if, when I look at our garden, I see all the beautiful crops, and instead of cursing the weeds, I look at how green our ground is, and how fertile it is, and how lovely some of those little weeds actually look when going to flower?"

At the garden this afternoon, just as the weedy thoughts started to surface, I made a conscious stop, simply telling that voice to back off, as I wasn't going to hear one bad word about our garden today. I plucked out a bunch of big weeds, quite easily, just as I had hoped. Sure, they had time to really grow, and yet, I didn't have to fight them when it was clear that they needed to leave. I didn't berate our tiny plot in frustration, as I wasn't hunched over picking out tiny, hard-to-grab "weedlings," and better still, I didn't berate myself for not understanding how to keep the weeds at bay in the first place. I remembered how one of our garden neighbors, on our first community day at the garden together, said to the weeds in her plot as she pulled them, "Listen, guys, I know you are doing well and you are quite lovely, but I just can't have you in here anymore." It made me smile at the time, and I took note of it enough to recount that sweet approach to friends, later.

Today as I weeded in the heat, and made way for some new plantings, I just enjoyed what we had growing, left the tiny weeds alone, and made peace with the large ones as I pulled them out. Tomorrow, I will make a delicious dinner with some chard that I will pick minutes before I cook it, and more space will be freed up in our garden. More weeds will likely spring in the chard's place, and that's just how it has to be. More time will be needed to weed when we decide what to plant in the empty space next, and that extra work just has to be, too. The main difference between now and a few weeks ago will simply be this: there will be less angst from me in the whole process.

In a day full of errands that took too long, items to purchase that cost too much, and running about that left me bone-tired, I am focusing my attention tonight on the beauty of our weedy, crazy, full day's work. The kind people at the hardware store. A new faucet waiting for installation in our kitchen and a beautiful, light-lime green gallon of paint for our second bathroom. A meeting for my current part-time gig scheduled for tomorrow and a wealth of interesting things to discuss at that meeting. A tasty salad for dinner that I didn't have to make myself, and time spent together as a family to eat that salad. A kid who announced to me this evening that she gave away her extra, brand-new swimsuit to a friend at school today (without my knowledge) because, well, let me just give you her quote: "Hey, Mom! Guess what? I gave my Tinkerbell swimsuit to [my friend]. I wanted her to have it, because I know she will love it so much." She will love it, since she loves Tinkerbell a lot right now, and I love that EJ just gave it to her with such heart and spirit, because I know it was a prized thing to her, too. (We did explain, however, that from now on, she should probably check with us before giving away her clothing.)

Yeah, good stuff is growing everywhere, and I'm practicing the art of remembering to look for it first, without getting too easily distracted by the weeds. I'm also working on blessing all of my current worries and hassles even as I uproot them, much like my neighbor blessed her weeds---that one might take a little longer to get into gear. No matter how much practice I need before I firm up these new habits, I'm up to my elbows in the dirt, enjoying the work, and gobbling up the fruits of my labor a little more every day.