I’m a new veggie gardener, and have been popping by the plot nearly every day to check on the attack of the aphids and how much the peppers and squash have grown. It’s in a community garden behind a monastery, and the old priest who lives in the separate house (to provide spiritual support for the sisters?) keeps an eye on things.
He must have noticed my frequent visits and magnifying gaze as I pick off aphids one by one since my spray bottle keeps breaking. (NOTE: Adding old cayenne pepper to the soap and water mix is hazardous to spray bottles’ health, not so much to aphids’.) Last week he came out and sat at the picnic table until I noticed and joined him. “You know,” he said, “I’ve come to realize that there is a mouth for every edible thing on earth, and if the right mouth finds the right food there’s not much we can do about it. Everything eventually dies or gets eaten. All we can do is keep planting.”
So I’m trying to let the plants grow without measuring them in centimeters, and to be calm about a few aphids (okay, I bought a better spray bottle) and I’m thinking where I’ll plant more squash if a worm gets the first crop. Patience and acceptance. But not surrender.
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