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The journey of my first garden has been an effort in patience, wonder, and bounty. I have never felt disappointed because for even one flower to bloom feels like a miracle I could have never expected. I have always told myself I don’t know how to grow plants and could never have a big garden. The good news is I don’t have to fully understand how plants grow to have them work, I just have to do little tasks here and there and voila, the colors appear.
The first things I planted were tomatoes and peppers, starts from Mo’s garden. Mo also gifted me many seeds and some of them worked but overall I didn’t space them right and when they began to crowd each other I just sort of panicked and now have a bed of bitter almost greens that have created their own little flower patches.
Two of my six beds I just sprinkled wildflower seeds in and have watched them grow so tall. Yesterday I picked some and made a small bouquet. I still want to be a part time flower farmer but I don’t want to plan anything so I’d like to figure out how to just sprinkle a million flower seeds in the meadow and in the garden and watch them grow and cut them and put them in the farm stand. On my drive to the chiropractor today I found myself really taking in each roadside stand of the peninsula, in gratitude for these small public spaces.
Money has felt particularly stagnant this year as I reorient myself to paying my taxes on time, paying off my tax debt, and making less manic shopping choices. I’d like to snap my fingers and have enough to build a studio and the farm stand and a barn structure. But then I wouldn’t receive the miracle of time - the miracle of waiting and working and the process that comes before the ripening.
I came home yesterday and checked the garden. Many new flowers had opened up and two small tomatoes went bad. But this tomato, this beautiful ripe red tomato, was ready for me. I brought it inside and took a million pictures of it. The star of the garden, the first soloist, in all the good glory of being the first one picked.
I put it on a plate and slowly cut into it, sprinkled salt on it, and took the first bite. I felt so nervous like, what if it is bad? What if I picked it too early or too late. But when I picked it I held it in my hand and whispered - are you ready? It answered by falling off the vine into my hand, I didn’t even have to pull.
Each bite tasted like a small victory of patience. Each bite tasted like the dirt and the earth in a juicy sphere. I don’t even know how much I like tomatoes but I loved this one with all my heart.
I have so many ideas for next year’s garden. I guess that is the thing about having a garden. Every year you learn so much about what to do and not do. I skimped on dirt and that wasn’t a good move so, more dirt. More starts instead of seeds. It’s ok for someone else to take care of the beginning.
It is only August and I could clear out three of the beds that are sort of scrappy and didn’t produce much but I don’t really know what I am doing or what plants grow now and into the Fall. So I will probably ask for some help.
There is something charming about my scrappy little garden. Something worth celebrating. Trying. I tried! I tried my damndest. Lazy in form but also hard working in nature. I love this little place. I want a camper! I want space! I want a kayak! I want to call in everything the people deserve. I want people to have solo retreats here, to watch the flowers grow.
In a daily reader today I read that we don’t seek happiness, we engage in love and service. And happiness is a byproduct of this.
My one little tomato existed in service to the whole project of being here. The project of being alone, of healing, of wishing, of waiting, of not knowing what kind of love or life awaits the next corner I turn.
May the simplest fruits provide great inspiration.
THANK YOU to everyone who has checked out my Skillshare class about :) It has been such a special experience to see students add their beautiful projects.
Join the over 500 people who have gone through the modules and come closer to their own bright creative spirit! You can start by signing up with a free 30 day trial and go from there. Plus when you do that you access SO MANY other amazing classes.
One of my favorite artists and friends Aaron Glasson has an open call for a 4 week residency at Jana Koya in mid October - November in the Mojave Desert - APPLY! Deadline is September 1
I was inspired after watching All the Beauty and the Bloodshed - the Nan Goldin documentary
Here are some tips I wrote for creating your newsletter
If you’re in Detroit I highly recommend you stop by Periodicals - the best new shop in town
This piece from Richard Kooyman
Euphoria Quilt Project - a group quilt all about gender-expansive joy - send a block by 10/31 - Submission guidelines here
Been listening to a lot of Tegan and Sara this week
Beautiful new edition of by
Went to see the James Barnor exhibit at The Detroit Institute of Art
I feel protected, loved, and connected to Spirit, source, and community!
