This is the time of year when -- assuming we’d like to eat food from our garden this summer and fall -- the man in charge of soil preparation (that would be me) better get off the couch, take shovel in hand, and get to work. The long winter’s nap is over.
Though the garden in the months to come will be Leah’s territory and I’ll generally be best off not trespassing or offering unsolicited opinions about what might be planted or when, I do feel like I should have some kind of involvement in the growing of our food.
Mindless labor is what I get to do.
I was out last weekend pulling winter’s weeds and turning over the rich soil when I realized an amazing thing: I have developed Patience.
You see, the truth is that over the years Leah has been the gardener in our family not only because she enjoys the work, but also because the tending of plants suits her sensibilities. Where I tend to be a man of action, Leah is better at tasks requiring easy, gentle, tender-loving-care.
I don’t know how or when this Patience business moseyed into my life, but as I shoveled soil last weekend, I too realized that working in the garden could be enjoyable if I
just
slowed
down
and
took
my
time.
A little frog hopped across the soil near where I was digging, and I stopped to
visit
with
him.
