I've said to before. To everything, there is a season.
You, no doubt, have also gone through ‘seasons' in your life, no? Perhaps a season of plenty or a season of pain. A season of fun and a season of trials.
A season of gardening…and a season of no gardening.
Let me tell ya, man. That last one is a killer. Especially considering I love in Zone 9 where you can garden without the fear of frost almost year round.
At our last rental house, we built six raised garden beds, had an outdoor compost bin, and tilled up and planted another 20×20 patch of land. It was enough to provide us with vegetables throughout the summer. And even the springtime treat of freshly picked strawberries – oooh, so tasty!
It also jaded us, in a way. Having to leave all that behind. My gardens, as silly as it may seem, were a part of me. Leaving behind all those freshly planted seeds was awful. And now that we are here, in another rental house, we hesitate at putting the cost and effort into more garden space when our longevity in this house is yet undecided.
But what do you do when you're longing for and missing that piece of yourself?
Container gardening? Perhaps. Though the canopy (or the ‘jungle' as I refer to it) that surrounds our house blocks out most all the direct sunlight.
What I really wish for is a small plot of land. That someone would lend me, of course. Dang Dave knows I won't be buyin' land anytime soon. And in this wish, said land-owner would say ‘Have a go, Shaye! Grow to your hearts content! Plant, and plant, and plant, and harvest, and harvest, and harvest as much as you please!'
At which point, I would die of happiness only after sitting down with my seed catalog and spending without caution.
And though most of the country has yet to think about planting, down here in LoAl (that's slang for Lower Alabama…you know, like SoCal? LoAl? Never mind.) it's already time to get things going.
Lettuce. Kale. Chard. Beets. Turnips. Potatoes. Broccoli. Carrots. Parsnips. Peas.
Sweet vegetable music to my ears.
I struggle. I struggle so deeply without my gardens. Are they my identity? Certainly not. My true identity is found in Christ. Is gardening my end-all? My purpose? My only joy? Of course not.
But I love it. It touches a piece of my soul that is otherwise untouchable.
That may be dramatic, but it's true. Without gardening, I just don't feel…right. I feel funky.
So should I throw caution to the wind and build a raised bed in the jungle behind the house? That is the question I pose to you, my friend. Should I?
For the time, for at least today, I planted a few kale plants and lettuce seeds into a few containers. At least I can get some dirt under my nails that way.
I also finally ordered my red worms to set up my indoor-composting vermiculture system! I plan on bagging the compost they make and will save it for when we can finally dig our heels into a home.
Or until said land-owner offers to lend me a small plot of their property.
It will touch a piece of my soul, I tell you!