Hope is critical to a positive outcome
All things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart. (D&C 59:18).
Gardening is a lot about preparation. And waiting. You clean up, rake out, dig up, move around, plan for, mow, chop, burn, haul here and haul there for days and days. It means dirty hands, dirty-all-over, and sore muscles. Then you wait till the forecast is favourable and finally you plant! If you’re like me you plant in stages. Spinach first, assuming it’s bed is ready. Then potatoes and peas, carrots and beets and so forth. Lastly are the delicate bedding plants like tomatoes, hoping that you’re not jumping the gun. And very lastly is basil (persnickety little princess that it is). Its a happy day when everything is looking your way, and the sun appears to commit to a lengthy stay – the tomatoes are finally into their summer home. And then! . . . you wait. . . . sigh . . . .
I cannot be the only gardener who wishes things would grow a littler faster. We can prepare the beds, fertilize, water, mulch, weed and water some more, but I’ve never met a seed in a hurry. Every year I try to be more realistic. “Get real!” I tell myself. “Stop peeking.” I tell myself. And I do. For maybe a week. Then we get a good two day rain, and I cannot help but take the inevitable day-after-the-rain-garden-tour, looking closely for any shoots of . . . anything. If I was honest, I am always disappointed. Having said that however, I am still utterly amazed at the difference two weeks in May can make to a garden.
May 1: my world is brown.
A few hearty weeds starting to unashamedly show themselves, and the promise of buds on a few early trees.
May 15:
The trailing bell flower (I call it devil-weed) is the most hardy green thing in the yard and it’s happy to be alive. (I’m not happy its alive) Dandelion leaves are beautifully tender in texture and taste. More buds on more trees. Most perennials are up, even the hostas have started poking their pointy heads through. Leaves have budded out on the chestnut tree. Blossoms on the Mayday tree, and the scent of them on the breeze. Tulips are blooming. Things are starting to green up.
May 21:
The stupid red lily beetles have sprung out of NOWHERE and are eating every relative of the lily family for miles around. Pink blossoms on the crabapple trees, and white blossoms on the cherry tree. Popcorn literally popping on trees all over our yard. The Delphiniums are two feet high. Mint is poking through the soil. Borage is in the four leaf stage. Mullein is nice and big and fuzzy. Lovage is already three feet high. The bright cheery yellow daisy-like flowers of Leopard Bain are in glorious full bloom. The world is suddenly every shade of green!
June 1:
The garden is full of promise and hope! Above all, hope. When all is said and done, after all is said and done – there is nothing one can do to rush the outcome. What if the carrot seeds don’t germinate? What if that one time I let it go dry was the critical time when they were their most vulnerable? What if stupid idiot cutworms cut the cucumbers off again? (stupid idiot cutworms) What if it hails? I hate hail.
faith vs hope
“One of the most delightful things about a garden is the anticipation it provides.”
– W. E. Johns
I do not have faith that my seeds will germinate. That would be a misplacement of my faith, as I have seen times that seeds have not germinated. Many factors influence that outcome. Of course, I HOPE they will, and I water them as if they will, and I keep hoping till I see it actually happen.
I don’t even have faith that I will have a harvest. Again I hope every year for a good harvest, but my faith is reserved for something much more dependable than the weather, or the fickle nature of ‘nature’. I have faith in God, and in His Son Jesus Christ. I have faith that He will answer my prayers, and that He will bless me according to my diligence and obedience to the laws and principles upon which those blessings are predicated, and of course those He desires to bless me with. I have faith in His promises; promises like families are eternal and that I will see my dad again. Other things I don’t have faith in.
For my garden, I hope the weather will be good. I hope that the sun will be hot. I hope that we’ll get enough rain and that our rain barrels will refill frequently. I hope that day will follow night, and that night will follow day again the way I’m used to. The way I like it. But this year of Covid19 has taught me that even the things I thought were constant and dependable, are volatile and removable. Do I have faith that life will always be what it is right now? Absolutely not.
If there was no hope in a harvest why would we plant a garden?
I love garden fresh carrots. Crunchy and juicy at the same time, there is nothing quite like them. But carrot seeds are very small and they take forever to germinate, and keeping them moist while they germinate is critical and truth be told, . . . . . I’m not always on top of it. Watering them can cause a flood and push them all into one area leaving another area empty. You could easily have 8 billion carrots growing so closely together that you must thin them out or they’ll be puny, spindly, little things.
This year I hit upon two reeeeeally good ideas for growing carrots and I happily carried them out. One was to soak the seeds for four days till they begin to sprout, then suspend them in a cornstarch slurry inside a small ziplock bag. You plant them through a small hole snipped in the corner of the bag, squeezing the slurry of seeds into a pre-watered trench. The other idea was to sprinkle the seeds into a pre-watered area and then keep them under a board to protect them from drying out or from being washed away by water. Both hacks required constant moisture of course. I used the best of both ideas and was ‘hopeful’ (even giddy) for excellent results, reasonably certain of a positive outcome. Between hand watering and the rain, I was confident the row never dried out. After about a week I allowed myself to peek, and thereafter peeked almost daily. Carrots can take an easy twenty plus days to germinate (I told you they took forever), but I was delighted to see little white spears poking out of the ground in less than two weeks. I gingerly lifted off the boards to let the sunlight start greening them up. The ground seemed moist enough but I soon got distracted and didn’t get back to them till the next day. Bone dry with not a sign of seedlings I saw the day before. (sad face) I was certain I had killed the tender startlings by uncovering them too soon. I hoped I hadn’t. I watered gently and often, continuing to ‘hope’ for the best but I had lost my prior confidence. I was just considering taking next year’s seeds (I always buy one year in advance) to begin soaking them. Our season is short enough, that every day that goes by gets closer to being too late to start seeds in the garden, so I didn’t have a lotta flex time to weigh it out. I continued to hope, watering daily for the best possible scenario, and checking daily. A few more days and I saw those wonderful grassy-looking tiny bright green speers poking through the dirt along the carrot trails! I am SO glad I didn’t give up.
If hope hadn’t existed I would have ceased to water, ceased to check daily, ceased to expect the best, and consequently I would have sabotaged potential, losing any chance of carrots in my garden this year.
“When the world says give up, hope whispers ‘try it one more time.‘” – anonymous
Hope is a choice. It doesn’t just happen to us; we consciously and intentionally choose it.
Hope strengthens us mentally and emotionally.
Hope provides a positive outlook on life. It literally makes us happy.
Hope reduces stress and anxiety.
Hope improves our general state of health and boosts our immune system.
Hope is essential to our feelings of self worth.
Hope moves us forward and makes the future look like a brighter place, one in which we’d like to live.
Hope energizes us. When we are positive and cheerful it is easier to have energy.
Hope increases faith. And faith increases hope. They are very closely tied together
Hope is healing. Depression is a state of hopelessness, and the opposite is true.
Hope is not stagnate, it is all about ‘doing‘. Acting on hope yields more results than sitting on hope.
Hope is infectious. Just like laughing makes us laugh and smiling makes us smile, hope in another inspires hope in ourselves.
Hope is realistic. Hope in a fairy tale world is not hope, its fantasy. Hope for a pony while you live in an apartment is not hope, it is pleasant musing.
“Every thing that is done is this world is done by hope.” – Martin Luther
The truth is, hope may let you down. It seems cruel but sometimes even those things we have the greatest amount of hope for, don’t happen. Its at those times we wonder why we ever invested in it. It seems briefly that had we not hoped, we wouldn’t have fallen so far, and wouldn’t hurt so much. But for the most part, hope is such a pleasant companion while we’re walking with it, that at the end of the journey, we decide it really was worth it, and we yearn to walk with it again, because with hope everything looked brighter, and our days were better. I wouldn’t ever want to live without it. No matter what happens, I hope ‘hope’ and I can always be friends.
“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.” ― Epicurus
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The next few blog posts will follow the theme of Lessons I learned from my Garden.
I hope you’ll join me. I would love to hear your comments, and your own experiences about lessons learned in your own garden.
Warmly,
Cindy