Gardens
Growing up, I had always looked for a farm to work on. For nearly my whole life, sharing a farm with someone else has been something I have dreamt about, wished for, prayed for. After years and years of searching, I finally found a beautiful plot of land with a female farmer that greeted me. Immediately I could see she was perfect: her smile shined as strong as the sun, and her heart radiated such great warmth. I offered to help her with her garden which she shyly accepted. I was so excited to help. The first few days I woke up at the crack of dawn to get started working. As days went by, this farm and its owner were all I could think about, and I had never been so happy. I planted a few small trees in those first few days and it felt incredible to work on the same farm as this beautiful farmer. She didn’t thank me much for my help, but it made me happy to, so I kept working. I actually began working even harder; my life revolved around making this farm the most beautiful it could be for her. As time went on, I began planting more and more to try and impress this farmer. With each tree planted, my happiness grew brighter, and she seemed happy as well. One day I looked over and realized she was planting a large area of sunflowers for herself. I began realizing she would spend all of her time there and hardly noticed all the trees I was planting for her. I decided to plant more and more, hoping it would grab her attention. Exhausted, I could see she was only working on her sunflowers. I began to look around and admired all the trees I had planted already and wondered why she hadn’t taken notice. Maybe I hadn’t planted what she wanted. That must be it. So I asked what plants she wanted. She said what I was doing was great, smiled at me, and went back to her sunflowers. I began to realize the only way for her to appreciate my work on her land would be to plant something large - just for her. Suddenly, I had dreams of planting the biggest of all trees - a giant oak tree - for the both of us. So I started digging and digging to make a home for it. And I kept digging and digging. Deeper and deeper. Little did I know that with each shoveling of dirt, my boots were piling with dirt, and I went deeper into the soil. She didn’t notice my digging, but instead worked on her own garden and her own flowers. This seemed even better, as I could surprise her with our oak tree. My mind still said that the garden was something I wanted to build for us both - and this tree I would plant would be worth all the toil, because she would love it so much. Her back was turned as I dug and dug and as she watered her sunflowers. I would call out to her across the garden to hear how she was doing, and she would respond saying she was doing well. That her flowers were growing beautifully. She asked how the digging was going. I smiled - she did see all of this effort, and I was just in my own head getting myself crazy! I said it's going great, that I had a huge surprise for her and she would love it. She said she was excited to see it and my heart swelled with joy.
I didn’t realize it, but she cared most about the sunflowers that she planted for herself. My digging had me working deeper in the soil, in a hole where each shovel of dirt brought me deeper and deeper. Suddenly, it became cold and dark in that pit. I could see I was in a hole. I screamed for her to help me get out of the hole. She said she couldn’t help bring me out, she was planting her sunflowers for her garden. I was so cold in that dark hole, alone in the garden I was building for us both, and crying out for help. She then asked if I was okay. I explained I was in this dark hole and in so much pain, so much sadness. I could no longer feel the sunlight, or see her, and I needed her help to get me out. She said she would come back tomorrow - that she had to plant her sunflowers. I wanted that garden to grow so badly for her that I told her I hoped her sunflowers would grow - and I meant it. She said thank you and went back to work. I slept there, in that hole, so cold and sad, in such pain. Finally, after twenty-four hours, she came back. The hole was shallow enough where I could just barely climb out, but I would have to scrape and claw my way out. I was exhausted and broken from the weeks and weeks of work for her farm. I realized suddenly I was sinking even deeper and deeper. I asked her to please help. She stood to the side and did not step forward. She watched sad, yet expressionless. I waited there, wishing, praying, hoping for her hand to join mine. To pull me up out of that hole I had dug myself into. Instead, she remained standing, silent, and still. With all of my remaining energy and effort, I somehow managed to pull myself up, scratching, scraping, struggling. I was covered in mud, tears, and exhausted from the time I spent working on that farm for us - no, for her.
I somehow climbed out of that hole. With one last look at this beautiful farmer I came to love so dearly, I realized I was not meant there. I walked away from this farm - a farm I realized was her farm - not mine. Her land, her plants - none of it mine. As I walked away, I turned around for a second, thinking maybe I could go back to working on that farm. But, as I looked back, I watched her refilling the hole, packing in the dirt I so greatly worked to remove for my tree I was so excited to plant for us. She packed the hole up in a few hours, erased my days and weeks of effort, and went back to planting her sunflowers - smiling with her beautiful smile as she had the first day I walked onto her garden. I walked, as far as I could, still covered in dirt, mud, and hurting. But as the days went by, more dirt left my skin. More mud washed away.
I still have that mud from her farm in my shoes, some in my heart. But, I now could feel the sunlight and its warm embrace for the first time in so long. I could hear the birds sing, the wind whistle by me, and before I knew it, I found a modest patch of land not close to, but not far from the farm I had just left. This patch of land did not have the best soil, the best irrigation, nor was it the biggest of lands; but the sky around it was so beautiful, the sounds there beckoned me to stay and start anew here, and my heart told me this was where I would start my own farm - one where I no longer planted crops for the sole purpose of another person or to impress other farmers around. Instead, these crops were enough for me to feel proud of, that only I needed, but with each harvest there being much left over to help anyone else around who might be in need.
I still think about that farm I left, reminded often by the dirt of my own farm, each time I grab a shovel, each tree I plant. And I often consider returning to continue working at that original farm. But, I am reminded of that one area with the patched up dirt that was once a hole I had been in. I remember how quickly it had been refilled once I left, despite all of the time, effort, and love I put in to plant that oak tree. I remember being alone in that hole, the hand that never grabbed mine, and my suffering. I remember her beautiful sunflowers she watered and planted alongside me as I wept and hurt.
But, I am strong enough now to work on my own plot of land.
Surely, there are times when the clouds block the sun, when my land does not grow the crops I plant, and when I feel alone on my new plot of land. But, I find solace and peace in knowing though clouds may block the sun today, the sun is still there. Though my crops do not grow as fast as other’s on their own farms, my crops are growing.
One day this plot of land will be something beautiful that many will wish to join, but I will continue to only treat it with the same intentions as when I first found it - to make something beautiful out of this land, for my own health and longevity, that can nourish anyone who is in need.
I still have my oak tree to plant, one I will place in my own garden that will grow so large and be something that will stand and thrive for 100’s of years to come, even after I one day leave my farm.
I didn’t realize it, but she cared most about the sunflowers that she planted for herself. My digging had me working deeper in the soil, in a hole where each shovel of dirt brought me deeper and deeper. Suddenly, it became cold and dark in that pit. I could see I was in a hole. I screamed for her to help me get out of the hole. She said she couldn’t help bring me out, she was planting her sunflowers for her garden. I was so cold in that dark hole, alone in the garden I was building for us both, and crying out for help. She then asked if I was okay. I explained I was in this dark hole and in so much pain, so much sadness. I could no longer feel the sunlight, or see her, and I needed her help to get me out. She said she would come back tomorrow - that she had to plant her sunflowers. I wanted that garden to grow so badly for her that I told her I hoped her sunflowers would grow - and I meant it. She said thank you and went back to work. I slept there, in that hole, so cold and sad, in such pain. Finally, after twenty-four hours, she came back. The hole was shallow enough where I could just barely climb out, but I would have to scrape and claw my way out. I was exhausted and broken from the weeks and weeks of work for her farm. I realized suddenly I was sinking even deeper and deeper. I asked her to please help. She stood to the side and did not step forward. She watched sad, yet expressionless. I waited there, wishing, praying, hoping for her hand to join mine. To pull me up out of that hole I had dug myself into. Instead, she remained standing, silent, and still. With all of my remaining energy and effort, I somehow managed to pull myself up, scratching, scraping, struggling. I was covered in mud, tears, and exhausted from the time I spent working on that farm for us - no, for her.
I somehow climbed out of that hole. With one last look at this beautiful farmer I came to love so dearly, I realized I was not meant there. I walked away from this farm - a farm I realized was her farm - not mine. Her land, her plants - none of it mine. As I walked away, I turned around for a second, thinking maybe I could go back to working on that farm. But, as I looked back, I watched her refilling the hole, packing in the dirt I so greatly worked to remove for my tree I was so excited to plant for us. She packed the hole up in a few hours, erased my days and weeks of effort, and went back to planting her sunflowers - smiling with her beautiful smile as she had the first day I walked onto her garden. I walked, as far as I could, still covered in dirt, mud, and hurting. But as the days went by, more dirt left my skin. More mud washed away.
I still have that mud from her farm in my shoes, some in my heart. But, I now could feel the sunlight and its warm embrace for the first time in so long. I could hear the birds sing, the wind whistle by me, and before I knew it, I found a modest patch of land not close to, but not far from the farm I had just left. This patch of land did not have the best soil, the best irrigation, nor was it the biggest of lands; but the sky around it was so beautiful, the sounds there beckoned me to stay and start anew here, and my heart told me this was where I would start my own farm - one where I no longer planted crops for the sole purpose of another person or to impress other farmers around. Instead, these crops were enough for me to feel proud of, that only I needed, but with each harvest there being much left over to help anyone else around who might be in need.
I still think about that farm I left, reminded often by the dirt of my own farm, each time I grab a shovel, each tree I plant. And I often consider returning to continue working at that original farm. But, I am reminded of that one area with the patched up dirt that was once a hole I had been in. I remember how quickly it had been refilled once I left, despite all of the time, effort, and love I put in to plant that oak tree. I remember being alone in that hole, the hand that never grabbed mine, and my suffering. I remember her beautiful sunflowers she watered and planted alongside me as I wept and hurt.
But, I am strong enough now to work on my own plot of land.
Surely, there are times when the clouds block the sun, when my land does not grow the crops I plant, and when I feel alone on my new plot of land. But, I find solace and peace in knowing though clouds may block the sun today, the sun is still there. Though my crops do not grow as fast as other’s on their own farms, my crops are growing.
One day this plot of land will be something beautiful that many will wish to join, but I will continue to only treat it with the same intentions as when I first found it - to make something beautiful out of this land, for my own health and longevity, that can nourish anyone who is in need.
I still have my oak tree to plant, one I will place in my own garden that will grow so large and be something that will stand and thrive for 100’s of years to come, even after I one day leave my farm.
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