Our summer garden has been a beautiful, successful one. The onions, garlic and potatoes were our first crops to harvest followed by corn, squash, tomatoes, okra, eggplant and purple hull peas. It has been bountiful in the big picture and I am extremely thankful for the season but it did not come easy.

The parallels between the garden and life, in general, are strikingly similar. In late summer, the tomato plants that were once bright, green and fragrant are now brown and crispy. The squash and cucumber plants are getting eaten alive by stink & squash bugs. The purple hull peas have been outgrown by pig weeds and grass. These challenges in the garden often reflect the same challenges I am facing in life. Burnout, pressure and overwhelming amounts of scheduling for the new year overtake and choke out the last days of summer. As much as I like to be in control, seasons in the garden and in life will change without my consent. The LESSON I have learned is to not dwell in the setbacks and losses, yet learn to prepare adequately so that you have the stamina to continue.

I came across this passage when reading in the newest release of In Her Garden; “My garden reassures me that there is beauty, value and lessons to be had, even in the times when my harvest are not all that I dreamed they’d be, and that, above all else, I get to try again, full of hope each following year”. - Robyn Chubey

Indeed, we get to go on. On to a new season. On to a new school year. On to a new day. We are not in control but we know that life will go on without our consent.

Was our garden successful? YES.

Did we have setbacks? YES.

Do we have the stamina to go on? YES.

In gardening, just like in life, you can be thriving and then, out of nowhere, something gets in your way. The way you respond to adversity will determine the LEGACY you leave.

Rooted, always. Lindsey:)

I began gardening with my dad, PapaJ, in the summer of 2020 when the world was in turmoil over Covid. I was looking to escape the “new” day to day norms of quarantine and social distancing in the city and in turn I found a whole new world in the country. My grandparents homestead, in Holly Grove Arkansas, is a place that I had loved visiting growing up but on this particular trip, in early summer, a new love was discovered.

When I saw my dad, who was newly retired, working in the garden, I thought to myself “this looks like hard, sweaty work”. I nonchalantly asked him if he needed any help and to my surprise he took me up on my offer. Before I realized it, I was hooked. I wanted to return and help him more and more. Fast forward five years and here we are today.

When my dad and I are in the garden, sometimes we don’t even talk. Silence. We listen to the buzzing of bees (or gnats), the roar from neighboring combines or the crop duster jetting by and occasionally dropping us some friendly nitrogen (fertilizer). It’s good to know your crop duster pilots:)

The silence and sounds of nature bring the ability to drift off into thoughts - thoughts about anything and everything, this is something that does not happen when I am at home. The silence is very therapeutic.

“You want to pick that okra when its about the size of your index finger” my dad says. The silence is interrupted with a lesson. He goes on to explain that ‘okra grows super fast, in the summer heat, often it needs to be picked everyday or every other day. If it gets too long, it gets tough and “woody” and is no good’. I’ll remember this next time I pick okra and then one day, when the opportunity arises, I might get to teach someone else this lesson. And the legacy will continue…

Driving home from the garden, which is 90 miles away, I reflect about the accomplishments made in the garden. Since I am busy bouncing between work, kids, volunteering, etc, I don’t get to stay long at the farm so when I am there, I work fast and furious. One day it hit me…I have to write down these lessons that I am learning every-time I am in the garden. My dad often tells stories and recounts memories about his great-grandfather, father and other influential figures he had as a kid working in the garden. I don’t want to lose those memories. The legacy must go on. It’s not enough to just work in the garden, I want to preserve the lessons and contribute to the legacy.

So, I am creating this blog site to share the LOVE, the LESSONS and the LEGACY of our garden for future generations for my family and maybe inspire someone else to experience the joys of gardening.

Until next thyme,

Lindsey :)