If you can’t do something well, do it anyway…or not. (Or Priority #1: Growing my meat garden)

240. That’s how many plants I started this year for what I imagined to be a glorious garden full of a harvest so bountiful and pure it would feed my family and new baby for the next year.

Well, that didn’t happen. Instead, I was nursing my 5 week old baby when it was time to transplant…growing my little meat garden. LOL.

The art of choice

A perfectionist at heart, I spend a lot of time and energy worrying, assuming an unhealthy share of responsibility and guilt. Thank you letters waiting for addresses. Taxes waiting to be filed. My work at the moment is to let this all go. Each pile of dirty laundry or shriveled plant represents a choice. First, a choice to be with my son and family. And secondly, perhaps a choice to take on or expect too much of myself, or to be prideful as I stress and clean my house frantically when company comes over.

Anyway, this is my long way of saying that I planted a garden today. A late garden. A small garden. But one my son and I can water, or watch die, or whatever the particular lesson is that gifts itself to us.

Sidenote: I found it too difficult to dig and plant while wearing Bodhi in a sling and I am still learning to wear him on my back. Special thanks to my son who, at three months, played happily and sang with me for 45 minutes from his light dappled red “tent” (AKA portable dog kennel — it’s clean and looks like a little pup tent…don’t freak out) while I dug, fertilized and planted rescued chard and brussel sprouts. Despite having his pants off, he still told me loud and clear when he had to pee pee just as I put the last garden tool away. 🙂

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