“However many years she lived, Mary always felt that ‘she should never forget that first morning when her garden began to grow’.” -Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
My husband tilled my fall garden for me yesterday.
I view this act as a first step back toward myself.
Toward my love for being on my hands and knees, deep in the dirt. Turning the soil with my fingertips. Placing each tiny seed in to its designated area.
My daily mornings of watering the precious seedlings that will grow to feed my family.
The joy and fulfillment of preserving said bounty.
This past spring and summer I was completely overwhelmed with outside activities. I planted a few containers with some of my favorites: cucumbers, herbs, zucchini, radishes, onions, and peppers. Thankfully, container gardens don’t need weeded and they generally deter dogs (but not chickens).
Planting these containers wasn’t something I wanted to do, it was what my husband
badgered gently reminded me every day to do.
I just didn’t have the time or the energy. Depressed, weary, BUSY. But with each blossom that arrived my heart was pointed more toward home.
Now, my fall garden is currently in motion. Planted with Carrots, Radishes, Beets, Kohlrabi, Cabbage, Garlic, Greens, and Potatoes.
My horseradish roots are ready to harvest in October, and I have a few birds that need processing when my husband returns from work in Western Kansas (a story for another time).
I would say that summer is winding down, and I am more than ready for pumpkins, wood stoves, falling leaves, and early sunsets.