Allowing Spring to take hold

In January my mom and I spent 3 days sowing radishes, turnips, mustard greens, and lettuce into our largest garden plot. Folks nearby stopped to ask if we didn't think it was too early but I insisted that we didn't need to wait. In comparison to the growing season in Maryland, where we lived previously, it felt plenty warm enough to “de-winter” the beds”. Since that time in January, we've pulled three harvests from that plot. The first harvest was baby greens, that mom ate raw. I couldn't get into the flavor but I looked forward to that bitter flavor later, when they were large enough to go into a pot.

A few weeks later, my diligent, and thorough daughter took her sweet time pulling each.and.every.radish. she could find, despite its maturity, from the bed. Ultimately, I think she did us a favor because she created even more space for our large leafy plants to spread out. Next, we harvested mature turnip greens and mustards, that we shared with every neighbor we could think of. We stewed, sauteed, and braised them right through the spring holidays in April.

The rain and chill had successfully kept me out of the garden most of last week, but when I returned, it was jungle. The greens’ leaves were so large they weighed down the stalks beneath them, purple-headed turnips, literally sat on top of the soil, and a mess of mosquitoes and bugs were everywhere. Damp and now warm, it’s the perfect place to breed, so I’m going to need to put something into the soil to kill any eggs or larvae before I sew anything new. That brings me to the reason for this post. It's time to move into spring. Every year, spring happens so fast for me. It’s usually a time of transition. Birthdays and travel make it easy to miss out on the physical beauty surrounding me. This year, in my intention to move slower but with more intention, I notice that the more time I spend outside during this time, the more I feel myself being pulled from that frigid winter hibernation into the free feel of summer, my happy place. With the weather warming, bugs are everywhere. These beds would probably do best with some long-term crops next, so my mother and I are planning a three-sister setup, that will, hopefully, yield through the end of summer (more on that later).

It's been a long winter for me. When I sowed the bed, in January, I was still limping, unsure of when I would return to work after a terrible car accident. I was so unsure of myself and my abilities, and my decisions. I had lost trust in myself. Clearing out these beds and planting something before it made sense to everyone else, felt like the only thing I could do, to remind myself that I am a cultivator and could see something through to completion. As I pull this last harvest and find a million ways to prepare and share this bounty (over 25lbs of turnip roots!!), I smile at the excess that a little time yields. I remember that action and obedience have carried me farthest.