Getting Over Yourself: The Lessons in Gardening Mistakes
Gardening has a way of teaching you not to take yourself too seriously. Gardens are not like those vivid, symmetrical, unmarred, pest-free, perfect images you see in all of the magazines and attention-grabbing blog feature images, at least not everywhere, nor all the time. You are better off using those images for inspiration, and going with what pleases you, what feeling you want to create, and what you can accommodate in your garden space, when making your garden selections.
Something will inevitably not go as planned or imagined, but even still, you just may find something better…something real…like how much more beautiful it is when that flowering shrub grows as nature intended; or how much life there still is in your garden, even if you’ve had to prune and treat to eliminate plant disease or pests; or how much more meaningful you find those peppers or tomatoes you grew by your own labor, whether you are successful in growing several dozen, or end up with two handfuls; or how good it feels to have a peaceful natural space that you have helped cultivate; or learning the signs of what’s to come, what’s needed in your garden, and problem-solving effectively; or most importantly, learning to let go and not be afraid of not having all the control or of making mistakes.
Every mistake I have made in the garden, has prepared me for future garden successes. Mistakes taught me to make weather checks part of my routine, so that I am prepared to make adjustments if more frequent watering, shade cover or sheltering is needed; to be vigilant in checking plant health and leaf checks for pests, to prioritize time-sensitive tasks; to allow space around plants for air circulation where possible; to remove or vent cloche or greenhouse covers during periods of intense sun and heat; and to never plant indeterminate tomatoes in my container garden, just to name a few.
Sometimes you’re bound to repeat mistakes, but never worry. Your garden or Mother Nature will remind you. Sometimes, there are new lessons to be had. The following is about a recent event, in which I did both.
Let’s see. I remember it like it was yesterday…probably because it was literally three days ago. I was out on the deck, visiting with our garden, enjoying the new arrival of warm temperatures, when my daughter opened the door leading to the deck, sobbing uncontrollably. My first reaction was that maybe she had suffered a physical injury of some sort. After some coaching to take a few deep breaths and explain, I discovered that she was upset because she’d answered three math questions incorrectly while completing her online homework. She expressed that she was disappointed and angry with herself because in two of these instances, she knew the answer but made a mistake, forgetting to account for the remainder, and was anxious because she feared her teacher would think she did not know the work, and needed extra help. All I could think was about the pressures we put on ourselves and how we can sometimes permit ourselves so little grace.
After acknowledging her right to feeling disappointment, I explained that we all make mistakes, and while her answers were already submitted, how she could learn from her mistakes, explaining how she now knew which types of problems she should look more closely at before submitting, and maybe what types of problems she could practice more, so that completing them is rote. I even tried encouraging her to focus on the many that she’d answered correctly. The tears continued, and she remained anxious about what her teacher would think.
Suddenly, I thought about my time in the garden that morning and a mistake of my own. You see, I had a cloche over a recently transplanted dill seedling. At the time I entered the garden, I thought to myself, that I would need to vent or remove that cover, but decided it could wait, as the sun was not yet intense or overhead. I did a few other garden chores, and then while transplanting a few alyssum seedlings into larger pots, noticed the clouds parting and more direct sunlight creeping in, but you know, since I can stop the movement of the sun and time, told myself that it could wait until I was done. It was maybe 15-20 minutes later and lo and behold, I looked over and my fancy-fronded dill was now a droopy mess! I uncovered it, gave it a little drink and spritz of water, and then checked on it later. There was no reviving all the stems/branches, save one, the main stem. So, the dill plant got a haircut that day.
Just the mere admission that I’d made a rookie mistake, and inviting her to come and take a look, seemed to lift that weight from her shoulders. She dried her tears and expressed her surprise at how much had been sacrificed, and seemed shocked that I was still holding it together. I began to tell her about how I learn from all my garden mistakes, and while this was a foolish repeated one, how I also had a backup seedling ready, because of another lesson I learned in my early gardening years. I sow and grow slightly more seedlings than I need in the event that the needed number do not make it to transplantation. The extras are usually given away to family.
Since I was on a roll, I told her about a new mistake I made this season. You see, when I went to purchase my tried and true Burpee organic potting soil, there was a sale on another variety which would offer me a larger quantity of soil. I’d used fertilizer by this brand in the past and the consumer reviews were good, so I purchased it as well.
The problem? Every seed which germinated in this new soil variety, resulted in a seedling with stunted growth, and it was the only mix I used to sow the bell and Tabasco peppers…including my backups. So, I brought my daughter inside to the greenhouse and continued the Mistakes 2022 Tour, directing her attention to these matchstick-tall seedlings. I then pointed out seedlings grown in the other soil and educated her regarding needing two to three pairs of true leaves before transplanting. I had her count the true leaves on these pepper plants, and boy you should have seen how huge her eyes were.
Again, she wanted to know why I hadn’t broken down. I told her that if I cried with every mistake or setback, we’d be out of tissues, and reminded her that while this was not how I imagined, the plants were still alive and I had a few more things to try, including repotting in the Burpee organic soil and feeding with diluted fish emulsion. I told her that if I did not see enough improvement in a couple of weeks, she could join me in shopping for bell and chili pepper seedlings at the nursery/farmer’s market. I reminded her that most importantly, all of the people and things that matter most to me were okay and intact.
She went from upset and burdened to the consoler and advisor. Her advice: Next time, I should be sure to sow seeds for each plant I want in the soil that I know works, even if I want to try something new. She then packed up her homework, pulled out a notebook and wrote a series of questions regarding the two soils and my methods. She told me that we must have a control. She plans to conduct an experiment, by sowing the same seed type in both soils, and giving them the same care. Well, it sounds like a win-win situation. My daughter will be voluntarily completing a science experiment this summer, and we can share her results and recommendations regarding the current potting soil which shall not be named, with you.
Gardening is an adventure, one in which you can never fully predict the ending, so enjoy the journey!