Monday, August 23, 2010
Lessons from the Garden for Parents
But now three months later, my plants are almost waist high, the leaves as big as a t-shirt and the blossoms usually forgotten under a jungle. What lies beneath is a zoo of zucchini that are proliferating out of control. Just when I think I have corralled them and harvested them and sent them on their way to be pickles, fritters, frittattas, parmesans, breads, grilled side dishes, and ultimately compost, I take one more gander and there hiding below me is one more. Bigger than the last ones, or more deformed, or even in the shape of conjoined twins, or slightly orange, or completely rotten and falling apart. How come I missed this one or that? How did it grow to be this way right under my watchful eye? All I did was plant and wait. And here is a gaggle of ZOOKS!
Had I pruned more, harvested more blossoms, pinched back the foliage, been more watchful, applied more discipline, would it have made a difference? Would it have produced a different crop of perfectly shaped, predictable, tasteless, uniform and dullard veggies for me?
You get the idea, anyway. We plant, we sow, we harvest, we marvel. At the uniqueness, the humor, the variety, the troubles, the stealth, the versatility, and the inexplicable offspring that result from our love and labor.