After my schooling concluded for the summer I had less than a week to dig out sod, build a raised bed, and refill the space with supplementary soil. Only then was I able to transplant all of the seedlings I had been incubating in foster vessels.
The night before I went away I successfully planted the roots of countless plants. I left their growth and survival to chance. After nurturing them as infants I had to leave, forcing them to mature. I knew not whether I would return to find them dead and shriveled, eaten by woodland creatures or perhaps they would strive, perfectly capable of growth independent of my assistance.
By the end of the summer, three months after the ignition of the project I returned home, anxious to see what had grown, died or shriveled in the summer heat. To my surprise my bed was thriving, emerald like a city of robust growth. I neared close only to see the tasseled fronds of grasses and the intricate leaves and flowers of countless weeds. The hardiest survived and in this case this meant the weeds. As I began weeding, to clear the beds I discovered the existence of numerous plants, of which I had planted, struggling in suffocation to survive. By the conclusion of my weeding all that remained were cruciferous kale, radishes, and cabbage, stunted cantaloupes, cayenne and jalapeno peppers. There were also a few surprisingly healthy tomato plants, still green however, I believe as a result of sheltered exposure to the sun.
Ironically I abandoned my plants for the summer to care for differently abled young adults, adults and seniors in addition to disadvantaged youths at a wilderness camp. I gave my seedlings concentrated devotion at their most vulnerable and critical stage then set them out to survive on their own devoid of my intervention.
Like to raising children, there are countless techniques and theories. Some which suggest close hand holding and nurture consistently throughout life. Others believe strength and individuality are best developed when the caregiver is out of site or unreliable.
My circumstances dictated my method of rearing, which consisted of inconsistent levels of nurture but unwavering levels of devotion. Aware of my need to temporarily abandon my crops I attempted to compact 4 months of dependable nurture into one month, the month prior to transplantation. My efforts and devotion were redirected away from my plants, toward human evolution and the caring for life which I had no hand in creating or rearing but had an opportunity to impact in weeks of care.
In the end, the strongest survived in both cases, the weaker and meeker of the individual campers and plants packing it up prematurely and returning to their life givers, being their parents or mother earth. While the strong and tenacious not only survived by flourished.
As the weeds were the strongest and most vivacious plants, they inhabited the majority of the garden box. When it came time to weed out the area I ripped and pulled, dug and scraped to remove all traces of the infiltrators.
Looking at the heaping pile of weeds I began to wonder what could be done with so many lanky limbs. I concluded to weave a basket from the weeds I had removed, with not but a few mere crops to harvest, due to both neglect and unrestrained growth of weeds. However, the same weeds responsible for stunting the growth of so many plants became a useful vessels for gathering and transport. Ironically the same circumstances that allowed for the growth of hundreds of tall, probably three foot grasses were the same circumstances that limited the amount of goods produced. So, although the amount of goods I was able to harvest was few, the garden I had begun three months prior produced an unplanned product.
My failure as a gardener produced a less tasty but ever useful fruit, or rather a vessel for their holding.
