In the Weeds
I watched as the last drops of water trickled out of the spout. The watering can was empty again, and I still had three plants left to go. I grumbled inwardly and for what felt like the thousandth time, turned to go back inside and fill it up.
This is the story of my life without a perfect sprinkler system. In the last two homes that we lived in, we had to do all the watering by hand, or by a janky system of hoses and sprinkler heads that need constant re-adjusting. Forget to turn them on and your yard is scorched. Forget to turn them off and it is flooded, not to mention the damage done to your water bill. Thus, for years I cherished the very grown-up dream of having a sprinkler system of my own that would reach all corners of the yard. I could just see myself absent-mindedly flipping a switch each morning and watering every single plant the perfect amount, in the perfect way.
However, since moving to our new house this year which does (O glory!) have a sprinkler system, I am still finding that we are constantly conniving new ways to get water to every place that needs it. There is always something left to be desired. The spray is too strong over here. Now it’s too weak. The line needs adjusting over there; but now it’s hitting the leaves instead of the roots. Great, we’re going to have moldy plants. The list goes on and on.
That is why, on this particularly sunny Spring day, I was out in the garden, watering the new bulbs I had just planted by hand. I have finally given up the expectation that a sprinkler system will solve all of my problems. Does the inefficiency of it all still irk me sometimes? Yes. However, I am also learning to appreciate the lessons of patience and presence that gardening seems insistent on teaching me, no matter how much I try to fight it.
Patience and Presence
There is something about gardening that inherently resists expediency. I think this is because we are working with the earth on its level. We are getting our hands dirty in the soil of natural processes, and there is nothing you or I or any sprinkler system can do to speed it up. The world is going to keep working as it was intended to work, on the timeline that God intended for it to work on. The parallels to life are so on-the-nose here that it makes me appreciate even more God’s sense of humor. He really did think we needed it to be that obvious. In response to what feels like painstakingly slow timing, we have two options.
We could (and usually I do) spend our time grumbling about the fact that gardening and life take time, patience, and a million trips back and forth with a watering can. Or, we could embrace it. We could view it as a daily, inescapable reminder that all good things require time, and that we actually were created for a slower paced life, one that matches the quiet cycles of growth happening in our garden beds.
Instead of complaining the next time my ten minute gardening project turns into an hour-long endeavor, I could view it as a reminder to be content with what is, instead of wishing for what is not. I could let go of my expectations and just be present to the present moment. Because no matter what I try to do to speed it up, this job will still require the same amount of time, attention, and care.
In other words, gardening teaches us the virtue of presence. Whenever I do decide to stop being a curmudgeon and embrace the slow pace of gardening, I am always filled to the brim with the simple happiness of it all. My soul is gladdened with little moments that I otherwise would have missed. For example, if I had not gone outside today and watered my new bulbs, I wouldn’t have seen the fresh white blossom that sprung up overnight on our pear tree. I wouldn’t have heard the symphony of birdsong erupting outside the window. I definitely wouldn’t have taken a break from my essay to let the sun hit my skin, reminding me yet again to leave the cave of my house more often.
It sounds silly, but recalling these things brings tears to my eyes. There is so much beauty in the world that we miss, simply because we are rushing here and there. We are often right in the midst of it, but we don’t slow down enough to a pace that is conducive to recognizing it. This is why I am so grateful for gardening. It is my constant, daily reminder that the world is not working at my pace. A garden and a life will never grow according to our timelines; and that is perfectly okay. Nevertheless, there is joy and fruit that comes from embracing the process. I know that one of these days, when I go outside to water my bulbs, I will be surprised to see a little green shoot poking up from the earth, if only I can for now practice the patience of a gardener.
This is beautiful! I have helped work in my family's garden for many years now, and I love having homegrown fruits and vegetables. There is something so fulfilling about gardening, and I look forward to doing it when the weather warms up.
Great read. “Beauty will save the world”- Fyodor Dostoevsky