My children are so like my garden. I planted my first-ever kitchen garden this spring filled with the thrill of bringing forth life, much like each time I saw two little, even pink lines on a stick. So much hope for those tiny little bits of life. When I think of it now, my eyes burn with fresh tears.
I liken the sprouting vegetation to the new growth I could see and feel in my own body. Hope and joy swelled as the growth became real to my senses.
Not long after the plants grew into recognizable species, I dreamt of the day I would see the harvest of my labor. Small, beautiful flowers burst forth. I faithfully watched over each bud, flower, and new shoot.
Then, it happened. An immature yellow squash that was so prickly and lovely one day vanished overnight. One entire hill of butternut squash died completely. Large, ugly spots formed on tomato leaves. Leaves shriveled. Radishes seeded.
Even worse – the crab grass and vines and weeds that had long inhabited the vegetable beds and that had been painstakingly dug, chopped, mutilated, and removed resurrected! The dark earth that lovingly encased the bright green veg suddenly disappeared beneath unidentifiable flora, and, of course, crab grass.
I stained my fingernails brown digging as I did in the ground, determined to remove every obstacle to my garden’s success. Interestingly, I found that the weeds had extremely simple roots and were quite easily removed so long as I did so before they matured.
Equally interesting is that water and sun are an intensely difficult balance. Too much or too little of either and the plants faltered. Some failed to produce in a reasonable time. Some shriveled. Some turned yellow. Some died.
What on earth do the last five paragraphs have to do with child-rearing? Quite a lot, actually.
My children are still young, and I can make the application. But I am positive that the subtleties will grow with my children.
This is the application I have surmised thus far: My children’s growth can be hindered by allowing the growth of anything that might overshadow, strangle, or overtake them. Weeds can come in many forms and may be ugly or beautiful; they are most easily removed when they are small and new, before their roots become complex. Water and sun can be likened to discipline and love. To little or too much can cause harm. Love can be too much when it prevents the achievement of gaining valuable nutrients such as self-control, hard work, wisdom, and experience.
Happily, my garden continues to produce, even through 100+ degree heat. At times it struggles. At times I struggle to know what each plant needs – more water, less water, more sun, more shade, support, room, drainage, extra nutrients it can’t find in its earthy home. And, I concurrently struggle sometimes with what each of my children need from me and in what amounts.
My work-in-progress is challenging, rewarding, satisfying, scary, and about a hundred other things. But the point is this: I carry on.
-Amanda Salisbury, writer, ShyJot Publications LLC