How Infertility Made Me a Bad Gardener
I’m tired. Very tired. I can’t remember when I wasn’t. I did stuff on the weekend – went to a pine plantation to steal pine needles for my garden, walked Lottie at the beach Saturday and Sunday, cleared a metal arch in my garden ready for runner beans, found 2 easy geocaches, blah blah. Nothing exciting, but busy at least. I was hoping to tire myself so I could sleep but haven’t been that lucky yet.
One thing I need to do but have had trouble getting around to doing is thinning seedlings in my garden. Some seedlings I just have so many they’re going to choke themselves. When The Fertile One dropped me off after we walked our dogs at the beach she stopped in to see my garden and I gave her lots of seedlings (tatsoi, mizuna, frilly pink lettuce, bok choi). I’m happy to thin my veggies by giving them away or transplanting things to other areas of the garden. But root veggies don’t transplant happily. You have to thin them.
The veggies most in need of thinning are my carrots. However I find it extremely hard to do it. If I don’t, they will turn into twisted masses of Frankencarrots. But the idea of plucking these little guys out of the soil when, to me, against all odds they’ve germinated, sent down a root, opened their leaves and felt the sun is really hard. Yes, I know that if I don’t thin them they will never live to their full carroty potential, so it would be cruel not to. And so I’ve slowly started, a little at a time. I don’t discard the plucked carrots; I’ve been using them as a sweet parsely-ish herb on things.
I don’t think I’d feel this way if I wasn’t having trouble conceiving. But it seems such a miracle to me that I could in some way assist something to grow. Sure, the carrot and soil have done most of the work. But I put that soil mix together, put the seeds in the furrows, and kept them well watered. I check their progress constantly and excitedly called out to my husband when the first signs of life broke the surface of the soil. Maybe my next crop will be easier. Or maybe not.