It’s May 15th, the fear of a late frost is gone, and I find myself wandering into Glenhaven Greenhouse in Broadway. The owner Arlene greets me with a friendly smile and a hug. The warmth of the morning sun, the scent of fresh potting soil, and the aroma of flowers and vegetable plants embrace me with the familiar welcoming promises of springtime, my favorite season. “What can I help you find?” asks Arlene. “Oh, just a few tomato plants for the garden, we’re just going to have a small garden this year,” I reply. With all of the work on my plate, I decided that this year I needed a bit of a break. My phone rings. My wife Beth is on the line, explaining that she really wants to have enough tomato plants to be able to do all our canning for the year, and that we’re almost out of last year’s sauce. “Okay, but let’s just do tomatoes,” I said.
Every year I tell myself the same thing about the garden: “I’m going to take a break this year,” or “let’s just plant a small garden this year.” Famous last words. What I’ve come to realize is that I make these same promises about other areas of my life too. “I’ll just take a short break from exercise,” or “I don’t need to be so careful about my habits.” And yet, in my heart I know, half-hearted commitments lead to disappointing results.
Arriving home, I go about preparing to plant. Better-boys, Big Beef, Cherokee Purple, Amish Paste, Romas—a beautiful arrangement of tomato plants displayed in the grass pathway leading to our garden. I set about re-tilling the soil, just to give one final discouragement to the weeds. I then set about laying out the spacing, rows 3-feet apart, tomato stakes 4 feet apart, plants 2-feet apart. I mark a spot for each plant with a small dot of blue spray paint.
I soon realize I’ll run out of tomato stakes and send my father to Randy’s Hardware for more. While I’m pounding stakes into the ground, Beth begins to plant, and the kids start spreading straw around them. “I think you’ve put in too many stakes. Did you miscalculate?” Beth asks. “It’d be a shame to not use these extra stakes, why don’t I go back to Arlene’s for more plants,” I reply, hopping into my pickup.
The 5-mile trip to the greenhouse is just long enough for my thoughts to wander. Why do I feel compelled to plant such a big garden? I remind myself that we’re low on sauce, and that we won’t have any for next year if I don’t plant now. But honestly, I am feeling overwhelmed and tired. My “short break” from exercise and self-care has turned into months, I’ve lost my energy and drive. My over committed schedule has led to an inability to take care of my most important priorities. Perhaps, like my garden, it’s time for me to have a fresh start?
As the sun sets that evening, observing the results of our labor, I count 230 tomato plants, dozens of pepper plants, and dozens of cucumber and zucchini plants! “Just a small garden”—famous last words once again.
Buying plants and putting them in the ground is just the beginning, the easy part. Plants grow to their greatest potential with loving nurturing and care, and so do we. When our sugar snap peas and tomatoes begin to grow tall, I train them upward by tying them to wooden stakes with string. Without this nurturing they can easily lay down and get choked out in the weeds.
After a long and difficult winter, I too feel worn down and ready to give up. Just like with gardening, I tell myself I’ll just take a “short break” from nurturing myself. Before I know it, that break has turned into months. My muscles feel weak from lack of exercise. It’s time to re-orient myself, time to start exercising again, and just maybe, time for a haircut.
Recently I decided to join a few friends for a 30-day exercise challenge to see who can do the most pushups, chin-ups, lunges, and run the most miles during the month of June. I’m looking forward to seeing the results of this labor. Just as I nurture the garden, surrounding myself with others equally motivated to get stronger is like the strings that hold up the tomato plants. They provide the support and motivation I need to help me reach my goals.
Gardens, like habits, are easier to plan than they are to keep up with. I think most gardeners would agree that weed management is their least favorite task. But it’s weed management that allows the plants to flourish. Just like weeds in the garden, I’ve found that weeds slowly creep into my life. My bedtime gets later and later. I find myself indulging in too many drinks and too many desserts. My commitments outgrow my ability to follow through.
Spring is a great time to identify what’s holding you back and commit to forming better habits. In my journal this morning I listed a few things that will make the biggest difference in my productivity and quality of life: Go to bed by 10pm. Drink less alcohol. Learn when to say no. These aren’t just goals—they’re the weed-pulling work that makes space for what I want to grow.
This morning, I meditated with gratitude on the abundance of canned vegetables we still have left over from last year’s garden. I’m also grateful for the strength and flexibility that I have to do my physically demanding job, and for four beautiful children that I have the privilege to raise and teach my values to. In a way, I’m still harvesting the fruits of my labor from last year’s garden, from 20-plus years of exercise programs, and from the sacrifices made to put my children first.
Life has its seasons, and it’s okay to take a break sometimes. But it’s also necessary to start each new season by setting big goals, planting lots of seeds, nurturing your efforts, and pulling out the weeds that choke you. Whether we’re talking about tomatoes or personal growth, the principle remains the same: you have to plant to have a harvest. With much preparation comes much reward.
Standing in Arlene’s greenhouse that May morning, little did I realize that I was choosing more than just plants. I was choosing to embrace the full cycle of growth—the planning, the nurturing, the weeding, and ultimately, the harvest. With a little bit of effort and a little bit of support when needed, I choose to embrace the promises of Springtime.
