I have a new love, and it is called my garden. It might also be considered my 3rd child.
I remember distinctly one summer growing radishes when I was about the age of 8 … or I could have been 5 for all I remember … but I do remember the radishes. I remember having a sense that I was meant to grow things.
Two years ago I decided I would attempt to grow something again. And to keep a long story short, let’s just say the last two years I have failed.But this year was a new year. And I was ready. And I was also unsure. If it wouldn’t have been for my friend Mae, I would have grown a small box garden full of basil, cucumbers and tomatoes. The three things I knew would grow without much TLC.
Mae saw things differently. She saw this beautiful, fenced in plot full of weeds and half-hearted strawberry plants and knew it was where the garden should go. I am so thankful for Mae. Together we ventured out to grow our first real garden together. We went to Barnes and Noble, she went to the library, we sat at my kitchen table and we devoured books while making charts and diagrams on engineering paper and with mechanical pencils left over from our pre-motherhood days.
We bought shovels and gloves and many packages of seeds. My porch turned into a greenhouse and we turned into machines, pulling weeds and turning soil by hand — all 200+ square feet of it. After several weeks it was planted. And now we watch it grow.
And grow it does!