Yesterday after work I went out and planted some spinach seeds in my garden. The rest of my veggies are waiting until it stays warm consistently, but the spinach can be planted when it is cooler.

I’ve been thinking about the planting of things… growing something from a tiny seed. It seems so unreal when I place a seed in the dirt that somehow something will actually grow. The soil seems so coarse… the water so scarce, but somedays too much. It feels like I ought to have to offer more than just dirt and water and sunshine. I fret over my plants all the time, because I don’t fully understand what I’m supposed to do, but also because it just seems so unreal to me. Last year I carefully planted my garden in measured, marked rows, watered it all, and then stood back and knew that it would never work. Something would have to go wrong, surely.

I think that’s why I am liking gardening so much. It’s this physical, very visual reminder of how things grow from tiny seeds… how nature knows how to flourish, even when conditions aren’t perfect. I, like many, infertiles, find it easy to fall into the trap of thinking everything has to be Just So – you have to eat these special foods and drink this much water and stand only this much, and move only this certain way… or surely the embryo will not stick. Because we weren’t perfect enough. But life is never perfect. Life grows where it will grow – there has to be soil, but it doesn’t have to be perfect soil.

This year I have improved on it – I built special borders and filled it with special soil and bought a special watering hose, but it is with the knowledge that I don’t need to. Last year I cleared some earth. I planted seeds and added water, and had a flourishing garden. I needed it to be simple. There was dirt, and water, and sunshine… and my plants grew in my less-than-perfect garden.