|Those are some weedy onions.|
This is probably going to sound crazy. But, I'm used to the stares and finger-pointing now so it's okay.
I like to sit in my garden. Literally sit in my garden. On the ground, next to the onions, on a small cushion I purchased just for this exact use. I like to sit there and pull the weeds out of my garden one by one. When I run out of weeds within easy reach, I scootch my cushion along the path and weed some more.
My husband finds this all quite ridiculous. I find it relaxing. Sitting amongst the onions and cabbages is calming. They are endlessly patient as I tease the bindweed out from around stems and uproot the pigweed and black nightshade pretending to be a pepper plant.
|More onions with fewer weeds.|
|Happy onions. They really seem happier once I've pulled most of the weeds.|
|My very first cabbage.|
Zen. It is very zen. It is all so temporary and yet it is all so constant. The garden is my constant companion. Even in the dead of winter, the garden is there waiting for me.
|The first harvest of the season.|
But, if I'm honest with myself, even if there were no bounty I'd do it just the same. For me, the act of gardening is more than the sum of its parts. It's more than a means to an end. It's a life-giving process. It's a part of something bigger than me. Something that accepts me as I am...even with all the scootching on cushions and weed pulling and funny hats and contortionist poses. It fills more than just my cupboards and my stomach. It feeds my soul and fills my life with meaning. I belong there.
|Me and some of the tomatoes.|
|Kinda swell picture of the okra in the early morning.|
|The absolutely enormous flower of a volunteer squash vine. This flower was at least 8 inches across. I can't wait to see what kind of squash grows from it!|
|The first broccoli of the year. It was tasty in stir fry.|