Waiting

I knew when I started a vegetable garden in July last year that it was merely an exercise in the process, and, as documented, we grew little in the way of product.  This year, I'm off to a better start.  I have already planted peas, lettuce, spinach, and arugula.  I'm hoping to plant carrots this week and am due to plant another batch of peas.  I understand that I can plant potatoes soon as well.  

I'm glad to have these things in the ground, but I'm discovering it's extremely difficult to be patient.  I know July vegetables were an exercise in futility, but they sprouted almost overnight and some, like the pumpkins, grew alarmingly fast.  I guess they gave me unrealistic expectations.  I keep slipping outside to check on my boxes, but alas, there are no little sprigs of green.  Something is sprouting, a square foot of volunteers; Jamie thinks they may be radishes, which I had no intention of planting again.  I may have to rip them all out.

Patience is such a commodity right now.  I'm trying to be patient with myself, my son, my husband, my job, my students; I feel that I could snap at any moment. I just don't know that I have any left for the garden.  There's not really any choice, I guess.  There's no way to hurry nature along, and so I wait.