With the joy of hindsight, I can see very clearly that parts of my life which were previously important and pleasurable to me disappeared under the lake of wine in which I was drowning.
I give you… the Tomato Scale.
- 2010 – tomatoes grown from seed. at least 4 varieties. yum. 10/10.
- 2011 – plants purchased from garden centre. greenhouse full. yum. 9/10.
- 2012 – plants purchased too late in season. lacklustre crop. 7/10.
- 2013 – The Summer I Bought Tomatoes. sad empty greenhouse. 0/10.
so… now it is third week in March, classic tomato planting time. Sweet peas, too, which pretty much followed the same trajectory as tomatoes over the last few years.
this weekend I had thought, yes, it’s time to plant. And this morning, bright and sunny. But I have experienced a strange reluctance to actually get started, and I am struggling to understand why. Why am I denying myself the pleasure of doing this? I did all sorts of dull jobs this morning when I could have just been out there, sowing seed, making colour and taste and perfume come out of the ground.
Do I not feel I ‘deserve’ this? do I not trust that I will be able to continue to look after them, to focus on them, to follow it through? Am I scared? I am definitely experiencing discomfort at the thought of getting going with this, and I can’t understand why.
I’m going out now to the greenhouse to do some sowing. Any thoughts on what might explain this discomfort would be appreciated!