Some Have a Green Thumb, I Have a Green Fist


I grew up growing things. Actually I grew up in a kinda whimsical petting zoo/garden created by my grandfather’s impulsiveness and my grandmother’s submission.

Although . . . perhaps it was a trait in him that she once used to love but, came to despise after having to clean up behind it for so long.

Hmmm?
No matter.
Questions for another time, when we know each other better.

When I was younger, we would go visit my grandparents on the weekends and during the summer. I remember having pineapple growing in our back yard and chickens that laid fresh eggs. I remember a turkey, that my grandpa swore was going to be Thanksgiving dinner, becoming his friend on drunken nights. We grew grapes in a small harbor that we also kept doves and rabbits in at one point. It was a really fun part of my childhood.

As I got a little older and had to help in the garden, I gained an interest for planting but, the full appreciation for growing my own food didn’t come until I was an adult with a child of my own. There’s something amazing about raising your kids with dirt between their toes and fingers. Watching them bite into something that you Hunted or Gathered is just incredible, whether they like it or not.

In a couple of weeks I’ll be hunting the shit out of the tomatoes on my porch. Today, I was caring for some herbs and strawberry vines that started as a few small plants but, with my “G.E.D. and give ’em hell attitude” and some left over supplies from my garage, I’ve turned those few into a rather lovely vertical garden or living stairway.

It took me about a week to transplant, move, and hang all my little guys in our vertical gardening space. I am very happy with the end result so far. We had to rearrange our entire living room to fit the needs of our indoor garden but, it’s all for ” The Greater Good.” It was time for a change anyway; sometimes you need to rearrange some things in your life for “The Greater Good.”

I haven’t been able to grow anything for a while, I’ve been spiritually and emotionally . . . backed up. I’ve spent so much time coddling my pain that I didn’t have energy for anything else. Not just the physical energy mind you but, the soul for growth. I can’t ask the earth to grow for me, if I won’t grow for myself. For a while I forgot that, I forgot how to grow because I was so focused on the things in my life that were stunting my growth rather than allowing myself to just grow naturally.

I’m pretty sure that some of my plants have transplant shock. Rather than stress about the plants that may die though; I am going to just focus on the new growth because that’s what I’m really looking for anyway. I’m looking for the delicate parts, that will endure long enough to eventually sustain continual growth.

That’s something I am trying to look for within myself also; the delicate parts. Enduring is something I’ve been doing my entire life. I’ve been transplant shocked, deprived of the proper nutrients, and kept in the shade but, as the good Dr. Ian Malcom says, “-life, uh . . . finds a way.” I don’t know which way is the right way but, I know my plants didn’t intend to live their lives inside red plastic cups hanging from my stair banisters and yet the live on and so shall I.

I’ll keep you posted on the living stairway and all the new growth in my life.

If you have any questions or pointers, please let me know. In the meantime, Be Riveted!

Roxy

20140729-003145-1905962.jpg20140729-003146-1906401.jpg20140729-003145-1905462.jpg

20140729-003144-1904777.jpg

Okay, there are a few Fan Girl nods in this post, no disrespect.

Advertisements

Questions, answers, comments, & complaints are all welcome.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s