207 Marbles
Today I have a city girl story that I’m almost embarrassed to tell. I’ve planted my vegetable garden and taken moderate care of it (with all my spare time). For the past month, as I pass by the small patch of sprouting greens, I’ve noticed a tomato plant that cropped up where I didn’t plant tomatoes. I thought it odd, but who am I to argue with a bonus tomato plant that wants to grow in my garden?
Each day as I passed by the garden on the way to the garage I would notice how well the tomato plant was growing. It was green and strong and growing stronger than any of the tomatoes that I had planted in the other garden. When it reached a certain height, I started expecting the little tomato buds to appear. Nothing. After a while, unusual blossoms appeared, but hey, there are all types of different tomatoes, right? Time passed and nothing came of the blooms and I thought it odd, but I’m either preoccupied or patient, take your pick.
When I passed by the garden today, I looked over at the tomato-less plant and got downright pissed off. That stupid plant represented every missed harvest, false start, and disappointment I’ve had over the past few years. I grabbed it from the base, saying angrily in my head, “You are nothing but a stupid weed!” But when I yanked at the base of the weed and pulled it from the soil, a mound of potatoes were clinging from the roots.
I was shocked. I have obviously never grown potatoes before, or planted them, so how they got there is a bit of a mystery. Possibly from the compost?
I took the potatoes inside and as I was washing them in my kitchen sink, tears began to stream from my eyes. It was just like life – sometimes when I’m expecting tomatoes, life gives me potatoes instead. The trick is to learn to enjoy those surprise potatoes and not get fixated on the tomatoes that I don’t have. Yes, I have a close relationship with expectation but the joy in these potatoes was that they were something that I wasn’t expecting. I decided to make a soup from the whacky potatoes and I sat down and ate it with a smile on my face.
William Shakespeare wrote, "Expectation is the root of all heartache." Were you expecting this relationship to turn out differently than it did? What if this breakup could lead to unexpected harvests?
Today I have a city girl story that I’m almost embarrassed to tell. I’ve planted my vegetable garden and taken moderate care of it (with all my spare time). For the past month, as I pass by the small patch of sprouting greens, I’ve noticed a tomato plant that cropped up where I didn’t plant tomatoes. I thought it odd, but who am I to argue with a bonus tomato plant that wants to grow in my garden?
Each day as I passed by the garden on the way to the garage I would notice how well the tomato plant was growing. It was green and strong and growing stronger than any of the tomatoes that I had planted in the other garden. When it reached a certain height, I started expecting the little tomato buds to appear. Nothing. After a while, unusual blossoms appeared, but hey, there are all types of different tomatoes, right? Time passed and nothing came of the blooms and I thought it odd, but I’m either preoccupied or patient, take your pick.
When I passed by the garden today, I looked over at the tomato-less plant and got downright pissed off. That stupid plant represented every missed harvest, false start, and disappointment I’ve had over the past few years. I grabbed it from the base, saying angrily in my head, “You are nothing but a stupid weed!” But when I yanked at the base of the weed and pulled it from the soil, a mound of potatoes were clinging from the roots.
I was shocked. I have obviously never grown potatoes before, or planted them, so how they got there is a bit of a mystery. Possibly from the compost?
I took the potatoes inside and as I was washing them in my kitchen sink, tears began to stream from my eyes. It was just like life – sometimes when I’m expecting tomatoes, life gives me potatoes instead. The trick is to learn to enjoy those surprise potatoes and not get fixated on the tomatoes that I don’t have. Yes, I have a close relationship with expectation but the joy in these potatoes was that they were something that I wasn’t expecting. I decided to make a soup from the whacky potatoes and I sat down and ate it with a smile on my face.
William Shakespeare wrote, "Expectation is the root of all heartache." Were you expecting this relationship to turn out differently than it did? What if this breakup could lead to unexpected harvests?
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