With the summer heat comes a bumper crop of plant-based Instagram posts. In the pictures, overall-clad women lower starter pots into raised garden beds constructed by their bearded husbands. Hand-lettered labels on stakes clarify what each leafy green thing will become; most are vegetables I didn’t even know about in the ‘90s.
And as everyone raises their green thumb into the air, I ache for a version of myself that gardens. I should garden. Gardening is a good thing.
In my horticulture dreams, I walk barefoot in the cool dirt each morning gathering raspberries to preserve in mason jars. I wear a wide brimmed hat, and it even stays on, because in my fantasy, I have a good head for hats. Each night, I tie a calico apron around my waist and hold up its edges to carry the greens for our dinner salad.
Yet again, I won’t be gardening this year. Somehow, like my sewing projects, house cleaning, leg shaving, and photo-book making, it doesn’t happen. Not even close. Not even a potted basil plant from the grocery store. I wonder, like many of us do, how the women in my life have it all together…
Read the rest over at the Fit4Mom blog!