Last month Tom and I stood on our new patio, the one which feels like an observation deck at times, overlooking wild lands and lakes and animals. (Well, kinda. Visit me and you'll admire my imagination.)
Then Tom stepped out upon the newly-seeded (as of November) lawn and began pulling the occasional weed amongst the tons of baby grass. There he was leaning upon his cane, pulling weeds with his newly-operated-upon arm.
"Tom," I said. "Weeds are growing in the old grass and they're gonna grow in the new grass, too. Don't you think you should relax? I mean, we have an old 1800's farm. This isn't a fancy-schmancy ______," then I had a typical brain freeze.
Tom chuckled. "Country club?"
"Yes! That's perfect. This is an old farm, not a country club. So please stop worrying about the weeds in the lawn."
Of course, Tom still pulls the weeds out there. But when, from the kitchen I catch him at it? I raise the window and call out, "It's a farm, not a country club!"
Then he smiles and comes into the house. Heh.
It's so important, I think, to know and accept what you have at this moment.
Of course, we could dump pounds of chemicals on our lawn, but that would poison this land which we hope to make into a wildlife sanctuary of sorts. And we could kill ourselves pristinely landscaping the whole 3+ acres to look like a park. But the fact remains--this is 1800's farmland and we have a barn, an orchard, a big garden and monster weeds and it's all a ton of work for a couple in their 50's who, however silly it may be, desire to do the yard work, themselves.
Of course, we could dump pounds of chemicals on our lawn, but that would poison this land which we hope to make into a wildlife sanctuary of sorts. And we could kill ourselves pristinely landscaping the whole 3+ acres to look like a park. But the fact remains--this is 1800's farmland and we have a barn, an orchard, a big garden and monster weeds and it's all a ton of work for a couple in their 50's who, however silly it may be, desire to do the yard work, themselves.
Really, it is a farm, not a country club.
And I'm a 51-year-old average woman, not a work horse nor an extremely talented, experienced farm girl like Mary Jane Butters. No, Tom is Tom and I am me and this is our little farm where mostly (I like to say) I am gardening by computer. "The orchard trees need pruning and fertilizing? Well, I'll go inside and look up online how to do that."
I've never grown ferns or grapes or iris' before? Never made a rock patio or dug a small pond or thinned trees? "Better check-out the instructions online."
And I'm a 51-year-old average woman, not a work horse nor an extremely talented, experienced farm girl like Mary Jane Butters. No, Tom is Tom and I am me and this is our little farm where mostly (I like to say) I am gardening by computer. "The orchard trees need pruning and fertilizing? Well, I'll go inside and look up online how to do that."
I've never grown ferns or grapes or iris' before? Never made a rock patio or dug a small pond or thinned trees? "Better check-out the instructions online."
Today I am me and there's no reason to resent where I am. Someday I'll be more knowledgeable and experienced in farm life ways, but today I cannot jump from where I am to where I will be--I can only accept where I am.
And then take a new step forward, then another, enjoying each one, as well as myself, our farm, and Life and God on this journey.
And then take a new step forward, then another, enjoying each one, as well as myself, our farm, and Life and God on this journey.
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We cannot truly love something unless first accepting it just as it is today.
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What a great post! Acceptance at where you are. That is great. I, too, am on a journey in this gardening/farming life. But isn't it cool that we have the internet to look up all the needed information.
ReplyDeleteLisa :O)