One Gardener's Labors Plant the Seeds of Humility

Spring in our house means flowers blooming, a mad rush to turn over the garden and seeds bought on the hope that this summer our tomatoes might outshine our sisters’. 

My husband, being of a somewhat competitve nature, likes to talk a little trash and each year one of our sisters seems to outshine him. One year my sister’s carrots came in large and sweet, while ours were so scrawny the rabbits didn’t even bother to dig them up. 

My husband’s sister has a large garden, that is not only full of all things yummy like asparagus, swiss chard, onions and beets but it is also a visual delight.  Perenials surround the outer edge dotting the area with blues and greens, violet and yellow. I would tell you what is in her garden but sadly I cannot recall.  

My thumb is not exactly green. It is not gangrenous, there is some circulation and a pulse is palpable, but what I have learned so far about gardening is I am best at planting and that is where my talent ends. I love to dig in the dirt. I love to chop up the grass and pull up mounds of fresh sweet-smelling earth. I enjoy pulling at the roots of a plant and setting it in the ground, covering it, watering it and letting it take its time to do what it is meant to do; grow and be beautiful. 

I do not like to weed. I am not a good planner. Both my sister and my sister-in-law have a talent for seeing the way a garden can look and implementing it.  They have a connection to the mound of grass that allows them to pull away and create something that draws your eye from color to color. They also have the ability to name all the things they have planted and for that matter all the things I have planted. 

Last spring my sister came to visit on a Sunday and I came home from work to find her and my husband happily weeding and pulling old leaves away from all the plants trying desparately to reach for the sun. We walked about my yard and, even though I had planted many of the perenials the year before I could not tell her what they were. There wasn’t enough of them visible for me to recognize them, even if I did happen to remember. 

She knew. She knew even by the small amount of foliage. The size of the leaf, the color, the markings on the leaves all made perfect sense to her. To be honest, I nearly weeded a perenial because it looked like a weed. It wasn’t and thanks to my sister, the perenial’s life was spared.

For awhile, I thought there wasn’t much to gardening. I thought you could read the labels and plant stuff in the ground and then sit back and watch it grow. I understand I need to water but often forget and I do not enjoy weeding. I thought I could create the beautiful English garden like my sister or the pristine landscape like the one my sister-in-law has planted around her home. 

But I do not have that talent. Last summer, I dug a large area out in our front yard, thinking how fabulous it would be to create another perenial garden. Three weeks later, my husband planted grass.

I do not have the vision or the understanding of the extensive array of annuals, perenials and shrubbery. I do not know when one thing will bloom and another will be done with that process. It is a gift, one I admire in both my sister and my sister-in-law.

It is a fact of life that we are not all good at everything. It would be absurd if we were. We would have no need for one another. We could teach ourselves to read and write and do math. We would nurse ourselves back to health. If we wanted a beautiful painting we would paint one. 

If we wanted to read a book, we would write it. And sometimes even when you share the same interest with someone else, your talent within that will also be different. 

My sister-in-law can build a landscape plan that blooms and blossoms for all seasons. My sister can grow sweet, beautiful carrots and her English-style garden is serene. I am glad I can look to them both for advice and seedlings when I want them. 

And while I do enjoy digging up my yard, this year I will keep it to a patio project. We will put down bricks that won’t need to be weeded or watered. I will leave the true gift of gardening to my sisters and bask in their talent. And they can come sip wine on my patio.