Almost the first week of my new career move as a work from home entrepreneur. Well, as a 'decided to' work from home entrepreneur...four weeks left of a three quarter time government contract. Then the solo flight begins.
I guess I thought my days would feel different. That I would be different. That I would be experiencing a life changing metamorphosis into an enlightened soul that would be at peace with her environment. But alas, not so much, not yet anyway. Things are pretty much exactly the same. Scooping dog poop, driving kids around and cooking dinner and working in between. Nothing magical has happened. I don't think anyone has noticed that I have a made a life altering decision.
The spring sun is starting to melt the winter away, and underneath summer waits. Garden and landscaping plans are starting to occupy my every thought.
Each year in the first month of melt I get so excited for spring and summer that I tend to forget that my thumb is actually more a muddy brown colour, rather than the brilliant emerald green that I seem to have delusions about.
I spend weeks making elaborate sketches of raised garden boxes lined with a wonderful variety of vegetables that we will eat throughout the growing season, and I will then preserve in a skillful fashion at the fall harvest. I draw diagrams of beautifully arranged pots of lush herbs placed all over the deck that I will snip here and there to compliment my dinners that I prepare lovingly each night, and of course to dry and have at my disposal throughout the winter. Each year, just in case I have not dreamed up enough of a plan, I also like to pick a new area to develop in order to plant more and more.
If all it took to grow a bountiful crop was sun and intentions I would be quite the gardener.
I really wish to be one of those people who seem to just plant their seeds, spend a couple hours in the evening de-stressing in the garden each day, and then are continuously harvesting zucchini the size of a canoe.
I really want to be a good gardener. I really want to produce a lush green garden to feed my family, and be shoving ripe tomatoes and funny coloured carrots into the hands of anyone who stops by for a visit.
But if this year grows like all those before it, then I will start out the spring with a fantastic plan, I will lovingly sow my seeds, water and care for my fledgling plants and nurture them along to nice start, weeding faithfully.
But as the chickpea vine (that is what my mother called it anyway) grows at fifteen times the speed as the lettuce, and little bugs eat all the leaves off of the three inch tall cabbage plants, and the herbs get brown and crispy I loose heart. Mid-summer I no longer envision myself standing waist deep amongst the fruits of my labour. But rather, I will be grudgingly dragging the hose out through my weed laden garden patch late every evening guiltily looking away from the suffocating pea plants, the scraggly lettuce and unthined carrots.
But as the sun shines on my face while I chip away the ice build-up around the planters I didn't empty last year I find myself dreaming. Dreaming of the smell of freshly turned the earth and shades of green.
Maybe, just maybe, this year will be different. Maybe this year I will discover my hidden gardener and grow the harvest I have always wished for.
More than likely I will have to visit my friend's garden to get my over sized zucchini. But I try not to think of that as I give up on ice chipping and return to my garden sketches. I think these plans are my best yet.
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