Gardening as an Act of Gratitude

A much-welcomed warm day provided me with a chance to get my hands in the ground. It has been rather chilly and wet in Seattle as of late. Two weeks ago, I was dodging snow squalls while on my way to class in Bothell. At this time last year, my first batch of peas was starting to sprout, and I'd planted a second batch in containers. Mother Nature is fickle, and my planting date will likely change from year to year.

I turned over the cover crop in the containers, as well as in half of my raised bed. I'll be planting things in shifts this year, depending on the month (and on the date of the Seattle Tilth plant sale). Using a too-small bucket, I shuttled back and forth between the compost pile and my garden, humming to myself while I put a layer of compost over the upturned winter cover. Using my favorite tool, the one that looks like a bent fork, I worked the compost and the cover crop leavings into the soil. My soil looks good this year. The cover crop kept it light, loose, and airy. It didn't seem as compacted as last year.

After this work was done, I planted sugar snap peas, sugar daddy peas (hee hee), Champion radishes and rhubarb chard. My spring crops are officially in the ground!

It took me a couple of hours to do the work, and I gave thanks for the lazy Saturday. I'd managed to write two of my four papers during the week, and wrote the third for an independent study in just two days. I decided I deserved a break. This morning, I went to a yoga class. And this afternoon, I gardened.

Gardening can be an act of gratitude. I kept saying thanks for things today. Thank you for my brain. Thank you for a dry, sunny afternoon. Thank you for good dirt. Thank you for the food I will grow. Thank you for the difficult lessons I learned in the past year. Thank you for being forgiving.

I can't wait until my little sproutlings come up again! I wonder how big my peas will get this year?