Wake-Up Call

Wake Up Call

I experienced an interesting wake- up call yesterday. Because our government is warning of impending food shortages, and I can’t deny the empty shelves at the supermarket, I decided this might be a fortuitous time to start my own victory garden. I’m not sure why I call it victory, except that I figured, with my lack of a green thumb, it would definitely be a victory if I could bring a seed or plant to maturity. If I’m being honest, I should have called it my miracle garden.

Therefore, in a quest to make my dream a reality, I planted squash, tomatoes, basil, and bok choy. The squash and bok choy were in long drainless plastic containers and the basil and tomatoes were in clay pots that drain.

I won’t bore you with the process. Let’s just cut to the chase. There was a diabolical, unseen enemy who seemed determined that my plants not live to maturity. I can’t tell you exactly who this enemy was, except that it was really hungry. I’d go out each morning to find huge holes in my bok choy. These bugs must really love bok choy. They could have opened a restaurant in my wetland. In the end, though, they completely devoured my bok choy. 

My tomatoes, however, were seeming to flourish. I only had two on the vine, but they were making it. I prayed over them. I whispered words of encouragement. “You can do this, little tomato. I believe in you!”

The tomatoes were red and juicy looking, but when it was time for picking, I was stopped in my tracks. There were no tomatoes on the vine. Where were my tomatoes? The restauranteers had struck again. If only I’d picked them the day before? Not wanting to live in the land of the “if only’s”, I focused on the basil and the squash.

At least the squash was doing well. Little squash buds were appearing. I was definitely on a roll.

I had a sense of pride about these two seemingly healthy plants. But before I could relish in my pridefulness, another comeuppance…

As I was showing off my squash, I was informed this wasn’t squash at all…I was growing okra, and it was ready to be picked.

What? And all this time I was waiting for them to turn yellow…yellow, like squash. I think this was divine intervention. Spiritual forces sent a messenger to let me know I was actually growing okra…a nice way of saying, “Maybe you should find another line of work.”

All I can say is, I have a brand-new respect for farmers, and although I feel like the dumbest farmer in the market, I am having home grown okra for dinner.