Seasons of Change

It is with great joy that I plant my vegetable garden every year; mixed with great sadness.

The joy is in working the soil, smelling the chicken manure and the fresh dirt as it’s turned.  Deciding where and what to plant – how many tomato plants this year and what kind?  What design will I place everything in?  Will I try to grow carrots again this year or attempt something else?

Joy in watching the bare dirt turn from unending, weed-less brown to rows of green seedlings.  Joy in watching those seedlings get bigger, spread, bloom, and bear their crop.  Joy and, yes, pride as my neighbors ask about my garden:  “what do you fertilize with?  They’re so BIG!  Oh you’re the house with all the tomatoes in the front!”  Joy as I’m able to make salsa and sauce and salads (all those begin with “s” – interesting).  Joy as I can name each of the plants and herbs and give examples of what I use them for; joy as I think about the next year’s harvest and what I’ll plant and if I’ll have my greenhouse by then so I can have year-round fresh veggies.

I feel sadness as I watch the seedlings die because I planted too early and sadness when the blossoms fall and the leaves take over the garden.  Sadness, too as I watch the harvest develop and the days get longer and the weeds sprout up again.  There is a sadness with every day and every harvest because I know the season will soon be at an end and my little plot of dirt will return to just that.  Dirt.

Already it’s October and the weather is cool and I’ve harvested the last of my beautiful tomatoes, potatoes, lettuce, sage, parsley, lemon balm and strawberries. 

Spring will be here again soon, won’t it?