Today, Ty and I mowed down our garden.

There are a lot of exciting things about owning a home - freedom to paint the walls any color you want and then choosing off-white, planning out exciting home renovations, and being able to call something your own. One thing my husband and I looked forward to was having a garden.

I grew up in the country, and even though I love city life, I miss the wide open spaces and the ability to work with the land. It sounds lame, but there's something so therapeutic about making your mark and literally eating the fruits of your labor.

So, Ty and I tilled a plot, spent HOURS hoeing until we had just the perfect rows and mounds, carefully selected way too many seeds, poked the tiny little things in the ground, and watered and watered and watered.

I cannot tell you how excited I was when we saw the first sprouts. Not going to lie, I went on a whole I-created-life-hear-me-roar power trip.

But, it turned out I was too good at supporting life. Weeds soon tore their way through the overturned earth and took their place amongst the plants we actually wanted. Some heavy Oklahoma rain storms egged them on. We spent hours one weekend pulling the darn things and hardly made a dent.

And then we traveled the next weekend.

And then we spent the weekend with family.

And then we decided we were going to volunteer after work.

And then we needed to study.

And all of these other obligations that seemed infinitely more important than growing a head of lettuce we could buy for $1.38 at the store kept cropping up. (Ha, farm humor. See what I did there?)

Admitting failure is hard, and I want to say our garden didn't succeed because I have a black thumb (semi-true) or that family obligations got in the way or that I came down with some incurable disease that causes death upon weeding, therefore I SAVED myself by not working in the garden.

But, the truth is, we just didn't. We didn't weed as much as we should have.

We get the same 24 hours as every other gardening master, and we made a choice. We not-so-subconsiously learned that our time, talents, and interests lie far outside our little plot of weed-ridden land. Our time is more fruitful (ha, back at it again) spent elsewhere.

It hurts to learn that lesson after spending so many hours and dollars in and on the garden, but luckily, no lesson is without its own reward. For our trouble, we grew one massive zucchini, and gained a lot of insight in the process. 

Happy gardening,
Kelsie

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