| Cucumber vines |
I've never been much of a gardener. It just seemed like too much work.When my sons were little, even a simple houseplant felt overwhelming - just another mouth to feed, another living creature to keep an eye on and make sure it didn't die.When the boys were older, we had a little bit of success with a small raised bed in the backyard. We harvested a handful of purple beans, ate yellow pear tomatoes straight from the vine and picked fresh basil for our pizza. The results were rewarding, but far from stellar. Spokane's short growing season combined with my limited time and energy yielded lackluster results. I was both thankful for and slightly envious of my neighbor, whose garden produced a bounty that he generously shared.
Fast forward a few years. My sons are 7 and 9. They dress themselves, brush their own teeth, and get a drink when they are thirsty. I no longer hold my breath with each step that they take, certain they will tumble down the stairs or impale themselves on a sharp object. And we moved to Central Florida, where the average high temperature in April is 83 degrees. In Spokane, there's still frost at night. The perpetual sunshine of our new home and my children's increased independence have combined to form just the right climate to stir my desire to give gardening another try.
| Mike and the boys building the raised beds |
Like everything else, I've thrown myself into my garden with full force. With the help of our sons, my husband built two 30-square foot raised beds that I have filled with okra, cantaloupe, bush beans, cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes, squash, herbs and flowers.
| Rainbow chard, cucumbers and flowers |
Whatever little I learned about gardening in Spokane is irrelevant here. Summer, with brutally hot temperatures and dripping humidity, is the equivalent to winter back home - nothing grows. So planted my garden on April 1st, hoping to harvest my vegetables before the summer rains begin.
| Eggplant blossom |
I wake up each morning, excited to see what new things are happening in my garden. The anticipation reminds me of when my sons were little. I'd open the door to their room each day and wonder what the day held in store. Some days I could hear the sweet angel voice of a toddler singing "Jesus loves me" in his crib; other times it was the cranky cry of a hungry baby. The garden is equally unpredictable. Some days it's worms attacking the basil and leafminers on the green beans. Other days it's the discovery of the first tiny green tomato or a squash flower that has blossomed into fruit.
| Tomatoes are on the way |
I share the news about my budding pepper plant with anyone who will listen just as proudly as I bragged about my oldest's first tooth. I worry about the stunted growth of my green beans in the same way I worried about whether my picky toddler was getting enough to eat. Perhaps it's the inner desire that every mother has to tend to her young, and now that my kids don't let me fuss over them as much I've transferred my nurturing tendencies to my garden.
I take delight in watching my garden grow. My goals are pretty simply. I want to enjoy the time I spend working on it and I hope what I produce will bless others. Pretty similar to motherhood I'd say.