planting a winter garden and the power of saying “yes” more than “no”




Awhile back, before life got crazy, I bought a few seeds with the plan that I would plant my first real fall/winter garden.  Spud has sporadically been requesting to plant some seeds of his own, but his interest waxes and wanes and neither one of us has ever followed through (or, more accurately, I have never followed through).

Yesterday afternoon, after a series of events that involved a trip to the ER, a CAT scan, and a diagnosis of concussion for one of our other kids, we arrived home and he again wondered aloud when he was going to get to plant his own seeds; more specifically he wanted to know if I had seeds that he could plant at this time of year. There really couldn’t have been a more inconvenient time to tackle this project, but earlier in the day I’d been thinking about how I need to try and say “yes” much more than I say “no”.  I figured now was a time to say “yes”.

I grabbed the cabbage, broccoli, and carrot seeds I’d been hoarding for myself to plant “sometime” (which in all reality would probably never been done) and handed them to him.  His eyes lit up and off he went.  He came back shortly because he misunderstood the diagram of correct seed planting times, and was concerned that I had given him seeds for summer crops, rather than fall. Once we had that straightened out, he went back to work.

There was a request for help in getting seeds out of the packets and a trip to the garage to find “stakes”.  He could only find two stakes, but he had three “crops” to plant, so he improvised with a stick.  I heard intermittent sounds of industrious activity from the garden as I cooked dinner, and then, suddenly, there he was on the porch with beet red cheeks that were a combined result of the heat outside, his hard work, and a flush of pride.

I figured he was coming to ask for more help and was genuinely astounded when he announced that he was finished.  “With everything?” I’m afraid I asked.  “Yes!” he said, “but the seeds won’t be up yet.”  (smile)

Of course I had to go see and snapped the two photos above while he gave me the grand tour.  He “only made one space for walking” and pounded in the first metal stake with the second.  Then he pounded the second one in with his hoe.  (I forgot–yes, he also hoed the entire area before he planted.)  I assume he just pushed the twig stake in with his hands, but I was so flabbergasted at the rest of it that I forgot to ask.

Makes a mama proud, yes it does.  More than any seeds I’ve ever planted, I’ll be praying these come up quickly and in great numbers.



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