I’m really bad at gardening, y’all. I found this out last year, but like, damn. This summer is really reinforcing it.

Perennial tomatoes

Instead of cleaning up our raised beds this spring, we decided to let them lie fallow. Let’s use that term. We’re totally letting the soil regenerate all it’s nutrients and what not and not being lazy assholes who don’t grow their own jalapeños and cucumbers.

There were moments this summer where I felt like I really regretted not cleaning up the beds and throwing down some seeds. I kept thinking about all that homemade salsa I was missing out on because I wasn’t growing enough veggies to make the aforementioned salsa. (Never mind the fact that I didn’t make salsa once last summer when our garden was functionally exploding with tomatoes.) But the moments of regret were overwhelmed by the moments of pure bliss and joy I experienced while NOT gardening. That was a pretty pure sort of happiness.

I know for some people, the act of keeping a garden and watching plants grow is nourishing. There are those who see all the possibilities a patch of dirt has to offer. When I look at that same patch of dirt, all I see is an endless list of chores. I love reading about Marie’s love of gardening, and it’s obvious that for her, the act of cultivating and maintaining plants is a spiritual experience. Her garden is a happy place for her.

For me, my garden is a place where I’d really like to never have to spend any time at all. And, honestly, that’s how I’ve approached my garden this summer.

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I assumed that my garden had become a desolate wasteland of weeds. And, for the most part, it had. But lo, not all was lost, for my slothful indolence was repaid with tomatoes! Just two little guys, to be exact, but that reward was much more than I deserved.

I suppose these tomatoes are perennials. Maybe. Who knows? Honestly, I didn’t do a whole lot of research when I planted the garden the spring before last, and I had been gifted most of the plants and seeds. So, even when the garden was in good shape, I really had no idea of what was going on there.

Rather than pick the tomatoes, I left them there. I didn’t feel worthy of them, as I had done nothing to encourage their growth. I didn’t want the gods of gardening to think I was taking something without giving the proper amount of work as an offering. So, there the two cherry tomatoes sit, slowly sun-roasting on the vine. And there they shall stay.

As for the garden, well. It’s full of grass and weeds. The raised beds are still there, but it’s like we have two little elevated yards within the backyard. And Rosie sure does love to take a nap in them whenever her little dog heart decides it’s time to sunbathe and snooze. So maybe the space isn’t a complete waste.

Maybe.

6 Responses

    1. It feels really bad at first to be lazy. There’s a ton of guilt. But then it slowly fades away as you fill your time with activities that don’t give you bad mosquito bites or make your allergies flare up.

  1. I love gardening…the idea of it, not the work. I’m amazed at people who can make food burst forth from the ground with seemingly little effort. But actually, it takes a hell of a lot of effort that I’m not prepared to put forth.

    1. That’s totally how I feel. I always assume that I’ll be one of those effortless people, but that is never the case.

  2. Our garden is my meditative space. Mostly. I’m not sure I’m at peace pulling weeds, but otherwise it is a place of quiet reflection for me. That’s why I have a garden—not for the produce but for the harmony. Your happy, peaceful place is somewhere else. And that’s perfectly okay❤️

    1. Thank you, Debbie! That’s such a good way to look at it. I think I get caught up with perfectionism and I try to be the best at stuff that I don’t really love. I think my peaceful place is definitely my reading chair, right next to my bookshelf.

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