Man plans, and God laughs.
–– Yiddish Proverb––
Spring tends to make a lot of promises…
Sunnier, longer days.
The possibility of storing your winter parka.
And, of course, flowers.
In past years, Belle, Cha Cha, and I simply jumped into a Zipcar and traveled to our favorite New Jersey nursery to stock up on seedlings.
Undaunted by the quarantine this year, I purchased the 10-packet herbal seed kit seen above.
Although this is the first time that I’ve started my annuals with seeds, soon––I thought––chamomile, lavender, lemon balm, catnip, cinnamon basil, dandelion, echinacea, fennel, marjoram, and peppermint, all medicinal herbs––will be thriving from my terrace.
The kit even came with cute little bamboo spikes, allowing me to label everything carefully.
And on Easter Sunday––which I thought an apt occasion–-I planted them all.
For two days, in the afternoons, I brought them outside to feel the sunlight, then, since the temperature had dropped to the low 40s, safely back inside at night.
Everything was going according to my Quarantine Gardening Master Plan.
And then…
Belle woke me up on Wednesday morning at 3:30 am––she wanted to talk about something related to her upcoming quinceañera––and before I could stop her, trampled over the tray of pots.
She managed to knock over 7 of the 10 herbs.
…sigh…
[Note: I don’t have a picture because, again, it was 3:30 in the morning, and frankly, it wasn’t really feeling like an Instagram moment.]
What struck me, as I tried to scoop the soil up as best I could, was that this unexpected mess pretty much summarized this moment in time.
Once a model of organization, now I couldn’t quite tell which bamboo spike label belonged to which pot.
Some of the seeds definitely got mixed up with each other.
And some might now be buried deeper than the 1/8 of an inch the packet suggested and might never germinate.
And, of course, everything might still bloom perfectly (but in unexpected ways.)
There are definitely going to be happy co-minglings, ones which defy my attempt at labeling them.
I’m reminded of the Yiddish proverb:
Man plans, and God Laughs.
And yet, I am somehow not discouraged by this because, after all, gardens are all about possibility.
Audrey Hepburn said it best:
“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.”
And I do believe in tomorrow, even if the seeds are completely scrambled and the labels no longer apply.
Right now, I can only wait and see what happy accidents do and don’t occur, reminding myself of that proverb a thousand times a day.
(Although in my case I think it might actually be: Man plants, and God laughs.)
Let’s see what blooms together.
Namaste for Now,
P.S. Because of the enormous need for connection right now, Stefan and I are shifting our plans and are now going to re-open up our RICH WITH PURPOSE Inner Circle Membership sometime next month.
If you’re interested, the Waitlist Info is HERE.
Together, we’ll not only believe in tomorrow, but we’ll also be able to shape it together.
