The thing I love about life’s most important lessons is they often times blindside you when you least expect them. And sometimes you miss them entirely.
One of these moments slipped up behind me and smacked me upside the head yesterday as I spent a majority of my morning in the garden, yanking up weeds, hilling up potatoes and making sure that everything I had on my agenda to tackle was taken care of prior to the rain moving in.
By the time I reached the row of overgrown sugar snap peas after tending the potatoes, squash, peppers, tomatoes, green beans and brussel sprouts, I was covered in dirt and sweat, was combating an annoying swarm of mosquitos, and had developed a healthy annoyance towards weeds. I wanted to be done with them.
So, with renewed determination, I started in on the last hurdle of the day.
When the sugar snap peas started growing in a while back, seven of the many seeds planted germinated and sprung up from the soil. I replanted, hoping to double this number and after several weeks and minimal weeding to avoid plucking anything that may have been the start of a sprout, nothing seemed to be happening. The seven still twisted up from the weeds, easily seen so I knew what to avoid when quickly working my way down the row and yanking free the pests attempting to overtake them.
Or so I thought.
After about the fifth fistful of weeds, I went after the next and stilled when my fingers touched the tendrils of a tiny sugar snap sprout.
Maybe I read into what happened too much, but I felt like that tiny plant was sending me a powerful message. Slow down.
We live in a time when information is easily accessed on the internet, food is provided fast and hopefully in non-rat form from establishments gifted at quickly turning out questionably edible entrees, and a majority of people are always rushing to impatiently accomplish goals, to climb the ladder, make the good money. We’re quick to get through life. So quick that we forget to slow down and often times miss what makes life so amazing.
Had I continued along my impatient, weed yanking ways, I would have pulled up every small plant secretly thriving beneath a canopy of thistles and creepers. We would have had only seven sugar snap plants. Now, we have thirty two.
And although I could see dark clouds gathering on the horizon, I slowed down. I took my time pulling weed after weed from not only the sugar snap peas but also the neighboring onions. With each little tendril I unearthed, I smiled. I had reserved hopes that the garden would produce much of anything, this being my first real attempt at large scale gardening. So every time something pops up, every time there’s a success, I feel a deep sense of pride and accomplishment.
I finished off the day helping my husband fence for the two llamas and sheep we’ll be housing over the summer for my parents. All in all, a good day with a wonderful reminder. Thanks for the message Big Guy!
Peace to all readers and remember to slow down so that you don’t miss out on life. 🙂