I had every intention of being a farmer. I really did. I googled garden images until I was practically cross-eyed as I wore rose-colored glasses and envisioned toiling the land I was working so hard on. That’s all fine and well except for one tiny detail: I don’t like gardening! There, I said it. I don’t like gardening. After my muscles hurt all over I finally broke down into tears and buried my face into my man’s shoulder last night. “I can’t do this” I wept to him. And he tenderly rubbed my hair. It was true. I had met my match on this unkempt, wild piece of land and got my ass handed to me. The 4 foot tall weeds on the back corner of the lot proved more then my tiny frame could handle ripping from the ground.
I was tired of being caked in dirt as I mowed the lawn. I was tired of my shoulders throbbing when I simply lifted my arms. I was tired of my cute clothes getting grubby after trying to make just a few more feet of grass look better and cared for. The fact is, I’m not really an “outdoorsy” person. Thankfully, the couple understood and were compassionate as I collapsed into the bed to mend my aching body.
As I laid in bed nearly all day yesterday I had a thought: It’s good to know our limits as well as our strengths.
I don’t want to own land. I don’t want to be a farmer. I have no desire to have a “green thumb”. I love looking at gardens. But now I can say that I have some deep respect for everyone out there who nurtures, toils, tends, and cares for their garden plots. It is hard work! I think I’ll stick to writing, curling up in libraries, cradling a cup of warm tea in my hands, and wearing my over-sized Ireland hoodie complete with Hello Kitty slippers. Yes, that’s more my speed. To know our limits helps us learn more about ourselves. I’ve lived, I’ve learned, and now I’ll rise.
Have a beautiful Friday, my friends, and stay cute!
~Miss Cutie xx