It turns out a plant killer has a purpose in the garden after all.
They cower when they see me coming. I mean it. I'm better than any herbicide. In fact, someone should put my face on the bottle of how-the-heck-can-I-control-weeds-without-chemicals.
Last week, I went to the garden with my sister. While she watered (life giving), I weeded (plant killing). After she finished, she said to me, “the garden looks great. Look at all the tomatoes we have coming!”
Tomatoes? I’d been there an hour and hadn’t looked at a single vegetable. It’s as if I only see the photographic negative of the garden.
It sounds terrible, but it’s rather validating. I’ve always slunk about in the shadow of my sister’s plant growing success. But it turns out the green thumb in the family has no aptitude for a hoe.
Seriously. She’s always all about how the ground is too hard, or the weeds are too thick. It’s never about how the hoer is too helpless.
Since I can flat out turn over a row, it turns out she needs me!
AND, I even managed to grow these!
Imagine my surprise when the first one came out of the ground--like magic!
It turns out everyone has their place in a garden.