A Hope and a Prayer

If all goes well I’ll be transplanting my first round of tomato plants early next week. I get the strangest feeling that this process I’m experiencing is much like what new parents must feel like when their home with their new born baby. I mean every morning I wake up, I pray that my little seedlings are still alive, that their healthy, and truth is I’ve never been this scared. I’m no stranger to the seed, but I have a lot riding on this crop. This is the preverbal mortgage lifter. This is where after I sell all these babies I have a decent down payment to put down on the farm which on a little more than a hope and a prayer I am buying from “the ex”.

As I drove to work today I had fifty minutes to think about how utterly dependant I am on this seed sowing to be a success. My livelihood, my future and I must admit my dignity. After about 15 minutes in the car “freaking out” I realized I was what my sweetheart refers to as “catastrophizing”. (Sweet word isn’t it?) That’s what I was doing. I was worrying how the seedlings were going to do without me, their mama for over seven hours today. Yes they were in the green house and yes they were safe, but…..WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENED…WHAT IF THEY NEEDED THE DOOR CRACKED OR SHUT OR OPEN???? I got home just over seven hours later and they looked wonderful. A hope and a prayer baby.

The thing is the last several years have been hard. (That’s an absurd understatement; I might be catastrophizing, but not much). Until now I’d come to expect failure as part of the normal routine. For several years I have felt un-anchored, tossed from one storm to the next. Until finally, yup….the perfect storm came along and piece by piece the existence I had once known broke apart and drifted out to sea. The good news is I’ve washed up on shore and with immense gratitude, happily wringing my undergarments out and roaming the sandy beaches of life naked, vulnerable, and slightly cautious with a splash of PTSS, but never the less grateful.

It might be worth explaining, the references I make to the sea is due to the fact that I’m a maritime gal, even though I now live happily in landlubber’s paradise I grew up next to the sea, my blood is mixed in part by the cold salty waters of the Pacific. So I’m accustomed to thinking in ocean like terms. Inlanders might refer to “getting back on the horse”? or “ Dusting oneself off”.

On another note:
A new intern moves to the farm tomorrow. Somehow I feel pressured (by myself) to appear un -bent, and gathered up. But I don’t know if that will be real. I’m on edge, on alert. I’m the seedling mama. I’m humbled and ready for anything. It’s not perfect around here; there will be lots of farm mending to do. It is what it is. And with a hope and prayer everything will turn out OK. It will be nice to have a new set of eyes and hands around here and there is no doubt this will be a learning experience for both of us.
Can’t wait to introduce you.
Keepin’ the dream alive baby!!!!