A few weeks ago I was marveling at the lush, unbridled, and mostly neglected growth of the tomato plants in our garden, celebrating it as a sign of the miraculously gracious bounty of life simply to be enjoyed.
And that's true. Life does ooze out all around us, and bubble up even when we're not working at it.
But a conversation since then with a more seasoned gardener than myself (you know who you are, MS!) has helped me understand the limitations of undisciplined growth.
Whoda thought that a jungle of stalks, branches and leaves intertwined in overstimulated, undirected, multi-tasking vitality might mean fewer or smaller tomatoes -- less fruit, in the end? Because so much of the plants' energy is spent in just making branch after branch, and foray after foray in some new and interesting direction?
And why didn't I know that the tomatoes don't ripen if they don't have adequate time in the sun? If they're so overwhelmed and overshadowed by the flurry and fury of all the branches and leaves that the plant has been busily putting out, that they don't have enough time just to rest in the light of the sun and mature inside?
Turns out that choices have to be made about how and in what direction the plant will grow, and not grow. And that the fruit needs enough time just resting in the light to really mature.
"And it's not too late," MS said. "All is not lost. You can still do some pruning."
So two days ago I was back in the Garden in the morning light, doing a little spiritual pruning of the plant and creating a little sabbath space for the tomatoes. I cut away excess growth, removed unnecessary branches and leaves, and even sacrificed some of the tomatoes that were there for the sake of giving the rest a better chance to grow and mature.
It's good for me. Hope it works for the plants as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment