In The Garden

Aaahhh…The beginning. When what could be is far enough off, from what will be, to warrant grand expectations. In the garden.

This week on the edge of a misty humid rain, my favorite “farmer” and I planted carrots, tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, zucchini, summer squash, spaghetti squash and our maiden crop—sunflowers.

This is our ninth year. In the garden.

When we began, John would stand off to the side, handing me plants as I explained—digging, measuring, reading the labels, analyzing placement, proximity to sun and shade. On and on the tutorial went, as though I knew what I was doing.

This year, he sowed the back and I the front, while we listened to his favorite podcast.

John is a measurer well versed in the perils of planting squash too close. I eyeball while obsessing about straight rows. His work is efficient, mine visual. We make a good team.

The process of planting our rather large garden used to require staggered water and snack breaks. Now, planting is shoved between practices and studying and evening meetings and…is over in less than an hour.

I resist the urge to ponder:
Where does time go?
Does he even need my help?

Because I already know the answers.

Time goes too quickly.
No, he really doesn’t. 
(I’m just hoping he hasn’t quite figured that out yet?) 

For now, it’s still early summer. The blight may not spot the tomatoes, the peppers could finally flourish, and the sunflowers will surely soar to the sky. 

The beginning, when anything is possible. In the garden.