I've been growing things lately. There's something inexplicably satisfying about watching these little plants sprout and flower each day. I love these violas. I usually see purple and yellow ones, but when I saw these with the orange? Well, let's just say I have a lot of them.
Of course, it's not all fun and instant payoff. I wish I had a picture of my back patio before I cleaned it up. It took about a month to pick the rocks out of the soil, remove the awful tanbark, weed, replenish the soil, and then plant. (Most of which I did myself, though I'm not complaining because Nick cleaned inside the house during all that. We're a team like that.)
When my peas started sprouting, you should have seen the smile on my face! It worked! All that stuff I did made things grow. Sure, I didn't have peas yet, but I had baby peas! The potential for peas. And they're even bigger now than in that picture.
I still have a couple months of watering and weeding ahead of me, but I will reap the benefits eventually. With lots of peas and peppers and tomatoes. Yum.
For me, growing things is yet another lesson in patience, consistency, and the value of delayed gratification. But the coolest thing is you can see your progress so much easier than in, say, writing.
I put in effort. I wait. Things grow. I get a reward. I like to think writing works the same way, but sometimes it's hard to see. Because in writing, I think, I'm more the plant than I am the gardener. Maybe a bit of both. My writing grows, but it doesn't grow unless I grow, you know? It's not a perfect analogy, but yeah. Something like that.
I'm kind of rambling, but I guess I'm feeling strangely grateful for the journey today. Writing has brought me some of the most challenging struggles of my life, but it's also given me quite a bit of fruit as well.
I'm not sure I'd be as grateful for the good things if I got them easily. It's the difference between buying peas at the store and waiting 70 days for them to grow. Sure, both are great, but there's something extra special about those peas you worked for. Every single one is more like a pearl, and you savor each bite.