Time to be honest – to confess – to break the silence – to write! I have gone 12 weeks without writing anything. As I sit here today, I am still hesitant, but the thoughts in my head need to go somewhere so I can sleep at night.
What word have you used to describe the last 12 weeks in our world? Unprecedented (not actually true) – uncharted – difficult – scary – weird – strange – challenging – I am sure there are more. Whatever word fits your view of the last few months, I am quite certain that it describes something that isn’t normal or everyday or ho hum. The word I use depends on the day, because all days are certainly not the same.
As we came into early March, I found myself dreading the onslaught of election and political ads and chatter I would be hearing for the next 10 months. That was quickly replaced with Covid 19/ pandemic/ quarantine news and opinions on TV/ Radio/ Social media/ conversations 24 hours a day 7 days a week. Much of what we heard and read was facts, but there was also a ton of opinion and speculation – not to mention that there was new data every day. For someone who appreciates reliable, consistent information that leads me in a focused direction, I quickly became exhausted. If living through a pandemic wasn’t enough of a challenge, there was a tragic death in Minnesota that lit up the world – figuratively and literally.
In all that I mention above, there is a ton which I cannot control. Not only is much of it beyond my control, but it doesn’t have an easy answer – certainly not one right answer. Perhaps that is why I have chosen not to write – for fear someone will think I should put forward my thoughts on those issues and what we should or should not be doing or speculate on what the right answer is. I am not sure there is a right answer. I think there are wrong answers and many different answers, but it’s complicated and complex and messy. I do know that a one page post on FaceBook or a 10 minute speech or a 30 minute interview or even a 456 page set of guidelines is not THE answer.
So, I am not going to write about any of those complicated things. I am going to write about the simple things that happen in my life – the thoughts in my head – the things I know – the lessons I’ve learned. Those things are mine and mine alone and are not designed to fix anything complicated or broken. My hope is that by writing about it, my thoughts become clearer to me and perhaps, it provokes a reader to think about something differently.
Two weeks ago, I did something unusual! I got my hands dirty with earth and transplanted three rhubarb plants given to me by a friend. I love rhubarb and it was the only edible thing that my parents grew at my childhood home, so there are some memories attached to rhubarb in my little head. Over the last few months, I have done more cooking and baking (and menu planning – a new thing) than in many, many years. A few of the recipes called for rhubarb (pie, crisp, bread, salsa) and since rhubarb kind of grows like a weed, I couldn’t bring myself to actually pay money for it. I begged some off of a friend, but when the opportunity to get three plants of my own came along, I jumped at the chance.
This self-awareness lesson comes from my rhubarb planting experience.
Our house is built on a rock – not literally, but clay kind of feels like rock. I knew that digging holes in the clay was not going to be easy, but I was prepared with my trusty, pointy (is that even a word?) shovel and gloves. The plants were going in a space that is covered in river rock, so the first thing I did was scrape back the river rock.
I looked at the pots the plants were in and thought I needed about a 10” hole, so I generously scraped back about a foot of rock. So far- so good!
Next, I put the pointy shovel into the dirt (I thought it was dirt) and stepped on it with great enthusiasm. The shovel didn’t budge – not one bit. What the heck? We have lots of plants in the yard, so I knew the clay wasn’t immovable. I tried a few different spots in case the shovel was hitting a rock. Nope! The shovel wouldn’t go in.
Do you know why? I’m sure those of you that actually spend time outside digging up stuff and planting other stuff knows why. I was hitting something called landscaping fabric. That stuff is evil! A very pointed shovel with my full body weight on it would not pierce that fabric. Seems ironic to me that a little weed can manage to push up through the stuff, but I can’t put a shovel through it. Not to be deterred, I tried harder with the shovel. At some point, I got down on my hands and knees and started tearing it.
Please don’t say I should have gotten an exacto knife and used that to simply cut the fabric. I’ve heard that from other ‘experts’ over the last week or so. That would have been too easy. I tore a hole that was about 10” wide – just enough for the plant to fit in.
Great! Now, I can dig out the clay, which wasn’t really that hard. I only needed a 10” hole and since I thought the river rock had to be pushed back around the plant, I only needed the hole to be about 8” deep. Why dig a hole bigger than the bare minimum? Have I mentioned that while I was digging out the dirt, that the river rock I had scraped aside began to slide back into the freshly dug hole? And, where was I supposed to put the dirt I was digging out?
I will spare you the rest of the ridiculous details. The plants were put in the ground, the dirt was replaced, they were watered, the rock was put back around the plants AND they are already growing! I am incredibly proud of myself.
This is what I am not proud of:
· This planting experience looks vaguely similar to the way I do other things
· I typically underestimate how hard something is going to be
· I don’t ask for help from someone who has done it before
· I only do the bare minimum to save time & energy; in the end it takes more time & energy to fix the mess I created by trying to take the shortcut
· I can get pulled into the superficial view and not see the underlying issue
· I am more focused on getting it done than I am with the quality of the job
Let me say that when I am doing work for OTHERS, I take a more thoughtful approach. It’s not a question of capability – it’s just not caring as much about how I do things for myself as I do for others. I don’t know what the means yet – there are more questions to ask myself about it. What I do know is that I got the job done – I now have my own rhubarb plants – I stretched myself into doing something I don’t like to do – and, I caught a glimpse of how the simplest things can teach us something about ourselves if we are willing to dig a little.
