Humble Harvest

Looking down at my fingernails, I notice the clear nail polish that I applied for a party over a week ago is already wearing off. Instead, a substantial layer of dirt is now coating all ten fingertips as well as finding its way up underneath each fingernail. The rich, musky odor of wet earth travels its way up to my nostrils. I breathe in deeply…and exhale, letting out a sigh of contentment.?

My knees and back are a little sore but that’s okay. It’s a good kind of sore. I’ve just finished planting, re-arranging, and plucking fresh produce from my little garden. The entire “shebang” consists of one raised bed inside our greenhouse (best COVID project ever) full of okra, tomato, spinach, broccoli leaves, and microgreens…and then another raised bed outside the greenhouse where the old chicken coop used to be. A patch of well fertilized soil from all the chicken poop left behind that is nourishing a feast of sugar snap peas, red potatoes, cucumbers, green beans, watermelon, and pumpkin. My favorite part of this garden is the ever thriving banana tree, named Savoy, that stands guard like a sub-tropical sentinel…providing necessary shade during the hottest parts of the day. Savoy is also home to several little green tree frogs, slugs, snails, and other insects seeking shelter and comfort.?

Each day, when I come home from work, I have a simple routine. Greet the kids and my mother-in-law, Susan, who is a caregiver to our son, Cuyler, during the day. I scoop a cup of cat food from the food bin while one or two of my girls follows me outside. We feed the excited cats, make sure the water bowl is full. Then I cross over to the chicken coop, reach into the feed bin, toss out some grain and/or chicken snacks (yes, I’m that chicken parent), make sure their water bowl is full, and collect the eggs. We average out about three to four eggs per day since we keep them spoiled and happy. Finally, I return to the greenhouse and the gardens, make sure I’ve adjusted the nozzle on the water hose appropriately, and I begin watering all of my beloved plants. I talk to them, ask them how they’re doing, if they got too hot in this sweltering South Georgia heat, and apologize for not being home earlier to take care of them all. I believe in talking to plants and flowers…and all growing things, for that matter. I come from the belief that I enjoy when others give me pep talks, so why not do the same with my plants??

I ask them what they have for me today and…if they don’t have anything, that’s okay as well. We all have our days. I do the same with the chickens, whether they lay eggs or not for the day. I want to make sure all of my beloved things feel needed, loved, and valued. When I see that a cucumber or pod of okra is ready to be snipped, it brings such simple joy to my heart. It’s actually quite ridiculous how much satisfaction I get from being able to collect even a few sugar snap pods in a day. This routine means the world to me…and I get a tad emotional when my husband gets home early every now and then and takes care of it all for me. At this point, you may be shaking your head a little or even saying out loud, “Woman, what is your deal?!”?Well, my deal is simply this…every day that I can actually see with my own eyes the effort and work that I’ve put into a project is a day that I can remind myself there is some part of my life that I can control. It’s my own little success story on those days when I feel my grip on reality slipping away. Having a tangible object that I can observe and hold soothes my soul at the end of a long day filled with one question mark after another. It grounds me.?

Being a mother to three children, my youngest (Cuyler) having an ultra-rare brain disorder, some days I can feel myself slipping away. My true self. Day in and day out…I am on call to perform. That is both my responsibility as a mother and as a full-time employee and caregiver coach. I do not have a “she shed” to escape to or much time alone, or an office space to hide in for those moments when I need to be alone. My garden provides a sanctuary for me like no other. It’s my respite, my cheap therapy, my place to simply exist. I can just let the stressors of the day flow out of my body as I get my hands into the earth and dig or pull.?

In the evenings, sometimes after the kids have all gone to sleep (but sometimes when they need to get some last minute energy out for the day and want to join me), I tend to my flowerbeds. Again, I take the water hose and gently provide a much needed bath to each plant. My kids have learned to talk to the plants as well. Sometimes we plant together…but often I’m left alone to do a lot of the digging and cajoling of the plants into their new spaces. The dogs and cats often watch while I work…and I’m serenaded by a cacophony of crickets, frogs, and birds of the night. And in these sensory laden moments my heart heals just a little bit more. The constant, clanging alarms of the unknowns, doubts, and fears about the future that take up residence inside my head are silenced for the time being. The imposter telling me that I’m not good enough and will never live up to my expectations is muted while I take another deep breath and let. It. go. The only expectation within this space and time is that my bare toes dig a little deeper into the clay rich soil beneath my feet and remember that I am loved. I matter. And I’m okay.