In the Garden – Mid July

In the Garden – Mid July

I’ve found myself wondering (once again) where the time has gone.

It was said when I was a kid that the older I’d get, the faster time would pass…

The busier I’d get, the more responsibilities I’d have, the faster moments would slip through my fingers.

I didn’t believe it, though. Nor did I need to because, at the time, I was busy being present in the moments of childhood.

In the Garden - Mid July

But now? Now there is so much to do.

So.many.things occupy my days and nights and whole weeks can go by in a blur of activity and stress and completed tasks.

And if you asked me what I had for lunch yesterday, I may struggle to answer because…what was yesterday again? Sunday? Monday?

Hmmm…

And so, at forty, I’m honestly tired of being so tired.

Tired of life seemingly racing past me at warp speed.

I long for slow days and checklists that fulfill me.

I long for less meetings and less assumptions and less fried work culture.

I long for working within the bubble of capacity instead of constantly pushing past it in an effort to accomplish more, do more, be more.

in the garden - July sunset

I have been known to chuckle at teenagers in the past when they’ve said things such as

I just want to lay in the grass and watch the clouds go by.

And yet, I long to do that, too.

(Though I know full well that grass and clouds don’t pay the bills.
And there are so.many.bills.)

in the garden - tomatillo

And I long to bake our own bread again instead of buying it from the bakery and to have the time and capacity to grow an herb garden instead of an organization and to dip my toes in the river instead of pounding the pavement and to sit present with myself instead of killing time on social media because I’m too tired to do anything else at the end of the day.

Checking out is a thing.

in the garden - ducklings

in the garden - Moana

Luckily, there’s this garden we’ve planted and tended and are currently watching explode…

And there are ducks tooling about and catching mosquitos.

I watch Moana (our Orphan Duck) try to navigate her way between humans and ducklings while running from Kitty (who can be especially mean) and find her own way, her own path.

I imagine it must be especially lonely.

But s/he’s alive and thriving and still so friendly.

And so s/he asks for worms and runs about, through the corn and behind the compost, around the beans and in and out of the shelter.

And there is so much hope there.

in the garden - knee high by the fourth of July

And the breeze dances its way through the stalks of corn and the sunset sweeps across the sky, balancing shadow and light on the tips of the mountains…

And I am reminded that I am (we are) exactly where we are supposed to be.

Learning and growing (literally and figuratively).

And I am reminded that my unrest, this stirring in my heart, is what will keep me moving toward my dreams.

Toward our dreams.

in the garden - flowering bush bean

And so I intentionally slow down during chores.

And I let the mosquitos bite me while I peruse the garden.

And I daydream about the days that have yet to come.

Because there is so much that has yet to come.

And even if I have to remind myself of it regularly,

It really is all about the journey.

xoxo,
M

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Written by Melissa @ Ever Growing Farm

2 Comments

  1. Linda

    Great post Melissa!! You sum up so much of so many realities. I love that in spite of your overwhelm, you know how important presence is.

    I question so much why the simplicity we crave is so unattainable. It seems those truly living the dream do so mainly because they had the cash to get them “there”. Their new lives may be more simplistic, but having the cash to buy land and set up seems to make the difference the rest of us have to chase.

    But being present helps own what we have and be thankful for every part of that, even the chaos 😊

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