The Plant Friends

It's actually quiet in the morning.  It is perhaps the only time of the day where there isn't a constant stream of cars rushing down Hwy 62.  Each morning, just after turning on the coffee, I walk out to check on the plants.  Carefully, I examine each bed, looking for new growth or signs of problems.  I look under leaves.  I notice the large blossoms now rapidly forming on all of my tomato plant.  The bell pepper is ripening to a deep purple, though perhaps a little early.  It is still too small.  Some onions are bulbing, others dying.  Another nasturtium bloom.  And the arugula thrives, perhaps a bit too much.

Breakfast is made using whatever is around and I spend my day at work.

I may sneak a peek on lunch break, if I manage to take a lunch.

I anticipate coming home and unwinding with an afternoon walk through the garden, but no such thing exists.  As I make attempts at deep breathing to free the persistent anxiety butterflies, I walk again, bed to bed, and think of the list of what's next:

Weeding
Move dirt from the pile to the new flower bed
Plant pole bean seeds where the first ones didn't germinate, this time farther away from the corn
Plant a winter squash plant
Spray the deer repellent
Harvest the arugula and find something to do with it
Crush the eggshells and mix into soil
Perhaps some bone meal around the marigolds?
Do I need to put another bamboo pole in the tomato bed so I can tie it up better?

But first, diner.

Cleaning, cooking, then more cleaning... is it too late to work on my list?  The list is a mental one at this point.  I forced myself to toss my actual to-do list, as I did not feel it was doing me any favors.

And suddenly, it is night.  If I want to get up early, I had better go to bed.  Yet another day with nothing crossed off the List, either inside or out, yet the entire day was spent working on something.  One hour to sit and eat dinner.  Why isn't more done? 

I suppose feelings of despair are part of being a beginning gardener/homesteader, especially when going it alone.  There is a certain amount of pride I feel when I look around and see the beginnings of something good and think, yes, I can do this myself.  But other times, the workload is daunting, especially when thinking about new projects I'd like to start, all the while the housework keeps crying for attention, and those tomato plants are not going to help you get dinner on the table, at least not for another month. 


Next year, believe I need to incorporate yoga into the garden plan...