This garden. It has a way of surprising me.
When I returned from my grandmother’s funeral, I found my crops to be half alive and half dead. Fitting, I thought. It was just how I felt.
But, with everything, there is always new life. And I am finding that reflected in my garden:
The tomatoes have begun multiplying, their shades changing from green to orange to red. The carrots are popping up (earlier than expected.) And the cucumbers keep going, even though I made the mistake of removing part of their shady home. (For the record, never remove cucumber leaves, even if you think there are too many. Your cukes will turn instantly turn yellow.)
This week, the garden reminds me how easy it is to remove those dead leaves. How a person can brush away those bad thoughts or feelings. How if you peel back to another layer of yourself, there is newness and light. There is always a rebirth around the corner.
You all know how I associate my gardening with grandma. Well, it looks like she just taught me another lesson.