New Moon Spring Self-Care

Spent an amazing Saturday evening *by myself*.  This week has been a really intense ending to a fairly intense semester.   As part of my self-care, I finally got out in my garden and planted all the seedlings I bought weeks ago (some of which look the worse for wear after waiting outside for me to find time for them).   I sifted through the springy, alive compost I spent all winter making, and just got back in touch with the ground that I hadn't touched for almost nine months.  I pulled weeds, cleared ground, and dug nutrient-rich compost into some of the harder winter dirt and planted about half my garden with kale, cabbage and tomatoes.   Last year, I tried, as usual, to have it all - but my cabbages, shoved into a shady corner, grew slowly and  were ravaged by bugs and bunnies.  This year, I thought about what I *really* wanted, and what I had energy for.   Instead of tucking in carrots or onions where they really wouldn't have space to grow, or crowding in larger plants in an effort to "have it all," I chose a few plants I really wanted to prosper - cabbage, kale, spinach, tomatoes - and spread them out all over the garden.  I gave them a crap-ton of compost and plenty of room to be strong and well.   I knew this meant I would have to give up some things - eggplants, for one, and maybe green peppers - but I know that I won't have time to tend high-maintenance seedlings or slow-growing, disease-prone tropical plants like them.   So I did the hardest thing for me - I said "no" to possibility and variety.   Instead, I channeled strength and power into the "few good things."  Cabbage, kale and spinach have become staples- this summer, I'm hoping to provide weekly food instead of dazzling breadth.   We'll see if I can hold back, though.   I do love the *4* eggplants or peppers I usually get.


This is, as usual, a metaphor for my life.  I am fueled by the possibilities - or my dreams of how life *could* be.    This is both beautiful and dangerous.