As some of you may remember (if you’re still around from last year in spite of my hiatus, I <3 you), last year I planted garlic. We were in the middle of maybe moving and the whole season ended up being weird, but the garlic… the garlic came in a pot from the other house. And it lived out front and I tended it and cared for it and harvested the scapes and made it into pesto. And even though there were only four little garlics, there was much love.
And then I forgot about them. I didn’t actually forget, I just never really bothered to look up when to harvest garlic. And it seemed like the ground was probably just as good a place to leave them as my fridge or under my counter. After all, it’s dark and cold in my fridge and it’s dark and cold in the ground, right?
Ok, so I forgot. Until it was way, WAY past time for me to harvest the garlic. And actually I mostly remembered about harvesting the garlic because I realized it was past time for me to be planting garlic AGAIN for this year.
In (sudden, belated, completely pointless by now) great haste, I raced out the door and discovered… Those guys. Looking pretty much just like that. Super cute and resprouted for this year. Awesome.
Why am I the biggest procrastinator of all time??
I did it with seeds too. My awesome neighbor does seed orders every year and offered (twice now – this year AND last year) to let me piggyback on his order. Last year he just flat out gave me seed potatoes because he is sweet and I am pathetic – the seed potatoes that became the potato trees that are now, I am happy to report, replanted in their condo!
I totally failed at piggybacking, or ordering seeds, or anything seed related. Which, as DH pointed out with only a hint of snarky sarcasm, is probably an ok thing because… oh wait, I still have ALL my seeds left from last year. And a few from the year before.
There’s a lot of things on which I could blame my continuing failure to garden. The marriage, the deployment, the rental, the move, the redeployment (fancy Army term for them coming home), vacation, unpacking. All of these are actually fairly reasonable excuses for having planted nothing but some herbs, two tomato plants and a potato condo.
But the real truth is that gardening intimidates me. It’s overwhelming and scary and… also scary.
And I think the idea of putting down roots scares me. The longest I’ve been in any one place since high school is three years. A year and a half is a long time to be in one house (one city even!), and that’s what we’re coming up on this summer. The idea of putting something in the ground and trusting that I’ll be here to see it grow is somehow weird and scary. And that’s not something that comes from having “the Army might move us at any point” looming over my head. (They might. That’s life.) It’s my thing. My weird. My scared.
But fortunately, I still have those seeds from last year and the year before. So the germination rates might be a little wonky. That’s ok. I stored them well and… we’ll see what happens. If they grow, they grow.
If not, heck – it’s effectively a first year garden. I’ll take it.
If you’d like to share, talk to me about your gardens and your hearts. I’d love to hear what your garden – if you have one – is to you. If you don’t have one, is there something holding you back?