The Green Mother

By: Chrysa Smith

I’m not sure I have that magic touch. Give me an adult plant and I can sustain it with sun and water. But those babies? I’ve never been great with infants.

So here I am once more. Spring is theoretically here, and I started my darling seedlings back in early March. And maybe—just maybe—there’s a little magic going on here, because the seedlings not only sprang up, all but one variety lived long enough for me to transplant them from their tiny micro-seed-starting trays, into larger degradable pots.

Of course, Mother Nature has not been with me this year. Not much sun coming in through those dirty winter windows. So I whipped out my ‘grow light’ and it’s been nothing short of miraculous. Those plants are loving every minute of being tricked into thinking it’s summer ( hee, hee).

Now, this is all very exciting to me, as the girl who once planted her beautiful ‘root’ plant upside down—and then wondered why it wasn’t blooming. But I love playing with flowers and veggies. The whole thing of planting something that lives and thrives long enough for you to chop it off at the roots and either eat it or admire it is a savage pleasure of mine. Maybe it’s all part of the brain’s desire to do something that actually works. And it’s also something to care for—-one of our basic needs.

Even if it’s one little packet from Home Depot in one little pot, I’d advise anyone to give it a shot. For a little over a dollar, it’s worth it to reap the pleasure out of caring for something that’s alive—and seeing it grow—and sending it on it’s way. In fact, it’s a lot like mothering. Maybe it’s a good Rx for those who are empty-nesters, or just those that like a little challenge.

There’s a pleasure in eating something so fresh, so local, so much a part of you. And the whole process is great therapy to slow you down. Make you relax. Take your mind off the fast pace of the everyday and get in touch with the natural part of the world around you. But there I go again, practicing without a license.

One of the things I do remember hearing after 911 is that people finally looked around and noticed that fall happened—-as if by surprise. We don’t need a disaster to wake us up—just a gentle nudge to take some time for something life-giving.

Plant something this year—-your garden gloves are calling.