forcast

we made an early dash to the garden today.
i made my way through, delicately giving a hello to each of my growers.
the boys found a way to make mud even muddier.

i came to my brood of tomatoes.
12 sprouting stems, approaching their adolescence.
their young white blooms show how far they have yet to go, but their mounting height shows how very far they have come.
each slender stem has begun to lean under the weight of it's own leafy arms, much to the dismay of these green teens.

as i began to instal wire cages around each one, i realized how pewney these little gems look inside their new entrapment.
these sweet vines have no foresight into their fruit bearing futures.
as the gardener, i know what's ahead.
i know their slender arms will soon be weighted with succulent ripeness so much so they won't have the strength to survive under the extreme weight of their own amazingness.

it is their fruit that will stress them to the point of breaking.
the very purpose of their existence will be the thing that causes strife.
in no way can they glimpse the upcoming forecast of potential drought, late frost, or flood.
they don't even know they are about to grow a brood of tomatoes because they have yet to experience the harvest.
their growing potential has been passed on through generations.
it's in their dna.
they can't change it.
it's who they are.

these sweet stalks need advance planning to survive.
long before the full weight of fruit bearing.
before the storm.
what now looks like a cage will soon be the hope of the harvest.

i've learned you don't water your little ones everyday. a daily watering would keep the roots growing shallow and lazy. they would grow to expect the dousing and would forget how to work hard at developing a deep, strong root structure.
but a less frequent dose sends the roots into uncharted soil.
it's not always pleasant.
they get a little irritated.
they must navigate downward blindly through mud and rocks in search of fluid. all the time trusting that it will eventually come. and when it does, the hard earned roots rejoice because they are stronger through their hardship.


too often, i think like a tomato plant
i think like an adolescent, never been through the harvest, shallow watered tomato plant.
i forget about my gardener.
i forget that he knows the forecast.
i forget my purpose in life.
i get bogged down by my own leafiness.
i don't always see things as i should.

so today, as i love these unknowing greens, i'm remembering that someone is doing the same for me. yes me. an adolescent tomato type of girl.