One of the things I love about planting garlic: you put the cloves in the ground in the fall, when the air is crisp enough to let you know the season is shifting but not yet so cold as to be really unpleasant. Then you go inside, where it’s warm, and watch the weather, the windstorms, the rain, the occasional snow. And by the time the seasons have swung around and you can think about going outside in something less than 14 layers, this has happened:
Sometimes gardening is a lot of work: weeding, fertilizing, watering. Sometimes, it just happens all on it’s own. Without any help from me. Which is a beautiful thing. And also, humbling. A reminder that I am not responsible for everything.
(I realize that sounds conceited. I say there is a difference between knowing that all sorts of things happen without my input and feeling like if I stop for just 3 minutes, life as I know it will come crashing down. The Reminder of Garlic is that even if it feels that way, it’s not, and that’s a personally valuable reminder.)