How The Grinch Stole My Garden

I was having lunch with my workmate Ozzy yesterday and I admitted that I am a terrible gardener.

"I thought you were a great gardener!" he said.

I replied, "I like to garden, yes, but I'm really hit-or-miss at it."

The reality is, I'm a better cook than gardener. Of course, with cooking there are far fewer variables than out in the garden. Let's face it, bugs aren't going to attack your enchiladas while you turn around to cut the bread, nor will a hailstorm knock the living daylights out of your soufflé while you run to get an umbrella. Gardening, especially organic gardening faces so many, many variables. And I guess you just have to live with them.

Why did my tomato plants stop producing? Why do some of my zucchini shrivel up and die when only 3 inches long? What the heck is that ugly bug that doesn't seem to move doing on my lettuce?

Maybe I don't pay enough attention.

But maybe, after all, it doesn't matter.

What is my garden there for? It's organic, so it exists for all the insects and beasts of the world, from hummingbird to grasshopper. It's my retreat. Like you, I work, I raise kids, I get all bent out of shape by all the crap we adults have to suffer through most days. When I come home I can head into a place that is a sanctuary, someplace bigger than myself and deeply connected to where we all came from (and will return to in the end). It's a lesson to my children. Ryan and Abby are excited to see things grow, to pick the fresh tomatoes and show them proudly to their mom. On how many levels does that work? Responsibility, stewardship of the environment, hard work, time spent with Dad... that list is just endless.

So maybe it isn't about me and how great a tomato I can grow.

Perhaps, like the Grinch, the garden is about much more than we really know.