This week I have experienced one of my lifetime greats. On par with getting married, passing my driving test, dare I say it... giving birth. What happened? I had my first glimpse of my home-grown, personally-nurtured vegetables.
With that first sighting of a tiny pea pod, the anxieties of the late spring, the endless watering, the carefully measured feeding, the squirrel chasing, the bird shooing, melted away. Replaced by a sense of pride and relief that I hadn't done something wrong and rendered my plants barren.
I know - millions of vegetables grow all over the world - but still, I felt intense joy when I saw those miniscule green tomatoes swinging happily within the grasp of their mother vine.
Why grow your own vegetables?
There are many reasons to grow your own vegetables; self sufficiency, cheaper food-shopping, access to fresh organic produce. But whilst I can't deny the appeal of such reasons, I have to admit that wasn't why I started.
I started growing my own vegetables very simply to prove a point. Writing aside, I was feeling void of skills. So I decided to nurture myself a new one. It was never going to be singing, certainly not art, and learning a new language was proving slower than I envisaged.
Living in rented accommodation there have been few opportunities to pull out my green finger and examine its powers. My gardening experience has been limited to grass cutting, sweeping flags and keeping a neat privet. In the absence of outdoor flower beds, I had previously turned my attention to indoor plants, but there's only so much attention they need. And it turns out I was lavishing upon them too much love (i.e. I may have drowned them). But I decided I could learn, and do better. So I chose farming (on a small scale) to be my newly acquired skill. In other words - growing vegetables in pots.
Why grow vegetables in pots?
There is good argument for choosing to grow vegetables in pots rather than beds; pots take up less space, you can move pots around to chase the sun, you can dedicate a particular soil to a pot, and you can confine plants to a designated space. All good rationale that did slightly influence my decision, but in reality I had some lovely old tin buckets, wooden barrels and wicker baskets that I didn't know what to do with.
Almost any vegetable, I soon learned can be grown in almost any container. All you need is depth, drainage and good compost.
How do you start growing your own vegetables.
Learning was easy. The garden centre, I discovered, is one of the few places where middle-aged women aren't invisible. At the first sign of confusion crossing my face, a young dirty-finger-nailed assistant, brimming with advice, was at my side. He explained everything I needed to purchase for my start up kit - apparently it is much more comfortable for a lady of my age to use a kneeling mat and had I considered a padded gardening stool? He discussed seed options versus buying young plants, and insisted that he carry everything to the boot of my car.
Alexa was my second best advisor. No matter how dense or pettifogging the question, Alexa responded without condescension. Although I do wonder if the reason Alexa hasn't yet been awarded eyes is because she'd be forever rolling them.
And much of what I planted, actually grew. There were a couple of failures - my potatoes failed to chit on my windowsill, and my first beetroot seedlings to venture outdoors were stolen by impertinent crows. But a quick consultation with Alexa and netting was purchased and placed over my next tubs.
The personal benefits of growing vegetables
Having acquired my start up kit, overcome those first few setbacks, and ultimately achieved greenery, I am pleased to announce that I don't believe my farming on a small-scale is going to be just a passing phase.
There's no comparison between popping to the supermarket and watching my vegetables grow from seed. Though too early to harvest, I have faith in the food tasting fresh and healthy. But more importantly (to me) is how, over the few months I have being farming on a small-scale, I have come to rely upon my quirky tub vegetable garden for more than just vegetables and herbs (yes - I have already expanded my crop).
My garden, with its promise of new life, oozes romance. And I have been wooed. Amongst the budding tomatoes and downy carrot tops, I find a tender peace. Its gentleness and serenity draws from me an emotional instinct to nurture. Its unperturbed solicitations of basic care bring a mindfulness rarely achieved elsewhere.
As a writer, I have found myself cherishing the calming growth. There is something about waiting for green shoots to creep through soil, that forces thoughts to slow down and gather in order. As I search the earth for spiky new growth, my mind resets. Its like a regeneration of my thoughts, triggered by the phenomenon of Mother Nature.
I have become addicted to the sense of grounding I gain when tending my developing verdure. The reawakening of flora, hungover from the cool and dampness of the night, reminds how hard times always pass. The determination of greenery, stretching to seek the sun, prompts me not to give up. And the unhurried cycle of bud to flower, puts in mind patience.
Only a few months ago, my small-scale farm was a discarded space, spasmodically paved with jagged flags and resigned to become a wilderness of ravenous weeds. Now it is a jungle of sustenance. I feel empowered.
From tiny seed, I have created roots. And soon I will harvest the upshot. But the true reward wont be the crunch of the sweet carrot, or the candy taste of the tender pea. It will come from the celebration of offering my yield, produce created with effort, devotion and love, to friends and family to share.
And as I settle on my padded gardening stool with a mug of tea, it dawns on me that it isn't my new found skill of small-scale farming that has filled my void. I just needed to utilise the most important skill that we all possess - the ability to invest our love.
Read more Hell of a Midlife articles.
Those first strawberries and tomatoes taste like sunshine 🌞