Adventures in Gardening

 In February, while Ohio was still inches deep in cold snow, I began to dream about a time when snow would turn to rain, the grass would be green, and the sun would remind us that we are not currently living through the second ice age. I was ready for Spring, but it seemed so far away! And even though the ground hog promised Spring was just around the corner, you never know if ground hogs are 100% reliable. So, to pass the time I took a piece of paper and some crayons and sat down to color with the kids in my class.

As the kids drew pictures of rainbows and stick figures, I drew a picture of a garden in my backyard. I added a raised garden bed and filled it with all kinds of vegetables and flowers. Pots were drawn and filled with strawberries, herbs, and peppers. My drawing was sub-par. Only a small step above my students artwork, but it held a promise of things to come. When my co-teacher, Jo Ann, saw my drawing she said, “you need to do this. Don’t forget about it, make it happen.”

And so the planning began. I ordered three dwarf citrus trees and researched how I could bring this garden to life.

Spring finally arrived and I was faced with a huge task—build a raised garden bed.

I’m not much of an outdoor girl and I know next to nothing about power tools. Furthermore, since I’m single there’s no husband to order outside and insist he build me one (that’s how that works, right?) I am also not the type of girl that men fall over themselves to do things for. I mean, let’s face it, I’m not 22 anymore. Just kidding—that didn’t happen when I was 22 either.

There were only two options: ask for help or do it myself.

And here’s another confession, I hate to ask for help. I have a myriad of reasons why I hate it such as: I don’t want to inconvenience people,  fear of rejection, no clue who to ask, my own silly pride. I could go on, but I don’t want to make myself look too bad. Bottom line: I won’t ask for help unless there’s no way on this earth I can do it myself.

Besides, if the Pioneer Woman could do it, then I certainly could! Her website is where I found instructions to make a raised bed. Of course, after reading the directions (and not just looking through the pictures) I realized she had asked some guy to build hers while she just took the pictures.

The time came to either build the bed or forget about it. But I am not one to let a vision go by the wayside. Instead I asked to borrow my dad’s truck (hey, I asked for something) and he graciously offered to pick up my supplies for me and drop them at my house. I agreed and soon had a backyard full of odds and ends.

Did I mention that I have like the smallest backyard in the world? Small but super cute!

Armed with my dad’s drill and a friends level and carpenter’s square (that his wife lent me and he may not even know I have, but which will be returned as early as tomorrow) I got to work drilling holes, tightening screws and leveling.

I worked…

…and worked…

…took a break and ate some lunch…

…worked some more…

…and finally finished. Not quite perfect, but close enough.

As some of you might have noticed by the drastic change in shadows, it took me an inordinate amount of time. I prefer not to think about how long it took me. But it felt great to accomplish what I had set out to do.

However, I’m not sure that I made the right choice. Not in my choice of gardening style, but the choice I made not to ask for help.

Actually, I wasn’t alone in my backyard. I prayed. A lot. (Especially toward the end.)  But could it have been even better if I had enlisted someone’s help?

It can be difficult to be a single girl in this post-feminist world. Not that it doesn’t have perks. Without the feminist movement I would be known as an old maid, or I would have married some random guy just to be married. I’m thankful for my options in this modern world. But this world also tells us to be independent and strong; it presses us to rely only on ourselves.

I finished my project, and love the end result. It felt great to accomplish what I had set out to do. I’m excited for a bountiful Summer. God gave me the strength and tools to finish this project, but what would I have gained if I had asked for more? Perhaps another year of arthritic free hands. Then again, maybe additional people would have only added stress (too many cooks in the kitchen).

How much self-reliance is too much? How often should we flex our independence? Can we rely on others too much?  And how do we make sure we remain reliant on God instead of ourselves?

Questions I’d like to ponder, perhaps while I sit in my garden.