Live Without Regret

The one zucchini plant I managed to grow in my garden this year took awhile to get going.  It started producing in August and was still going strong in September when a friend called to warn me of a heavy frost forecast.

I looked at the tiny zucchinis growing on that plant and couldn’t bring myself to pick them yet.  Instead, I got two fleece throws from the car and covered as much of the plant as I could.  It worked!  I saved my little zucchinis and they continued to grow until ready to be harvested.

Meanwhile, more flowers bloomed and attempted to turn into zucchinis, so I continued the ritual of covering my zucchini plant at night and uncovering it during the day to allow it as much warmth and sunlight as possible.

After a few weeks, I noticed the zucchinis didn’t seem to be growing anymore.  Although my neighbour laughed at me, I went on covering the plant for a few more nights.  I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing something I could have saved.

My actions reminded me of the quote hanging on my kitchen wall.  It says: Live Without Regret.

When faced with difficult decisions, I have often considered the question, “In the future, will I regret not doing this?”  Will I regret not having another baby?  Will I regret not staying home with my children?  Will I regret not covering my zucchini plant?

I can’t always avoid regret, but I enjoy the peace of mind that comes from trying.

My Kind of Therapy

Around this time every year, I begin therapy.  My start time depends on the weather, but it’s usually sometime in May.  I pull on some gloves, take a breath of fresh air, and stab the ground with a fork.  The healing begins.

There’s something therapeutic about gardening.

It’s hard work cultivating, pulling out those pesky weeds, getting the soil ready for planting.  My muscles ache the next day or two so I give myself a break before I get down on my knees to start the planting.  In go the carrots, lettuce, zucchini, spinach, peas, Swiss chard, tomatoes, and chives.  And flowers, we can’t forget the flowers!

I anxiously watch the sky for sun and rain, and scour the ground for the first tiny green shoots to poke through the soil.  When I see them, I rejoice!

What is it about planting and caring for a garden that’s so soothing, so therapeutic?  I don’t like the dirt under my nails.  The weeds are annoying.  Sometimes the crops are disappointing.  Occasionally the deer and bunnies get to the plants before I do.

Yet there’s something about a garden, something about working to help the earth produce, something about growing nutritious food, something about nurturing, something about being outside, enjoying nature…feeling, smelling, tasting…seeing the worms wiggle through the dirt.

Both my grandmas had very green thumbs.  The one in New Zealand even won an award for her gardening skills and the grounds she cared for.  Maybe someday, if I continue with my therapy, my thumbs will turn green too.

Until then, there’s nothing quite like biting into a crisp, garden-fresh carrot.  Mmmm.  Let the therapy begin.