There’s a ton of growing over here at our little homestead (still haven’t landed on a name — Half-Baked Homestead, Crooked-Little Homestead, Half-*#!ed Homestead, and the calmer, purer, WaldenWood Homestead are all in the running). The homestead itself is growing as we make room for more self-sustainment, including a little peach tree that we hope we can keep away from the raccoons, woodchucks and other critters that will find it as tasty as we would.
Accidental plants are growing from our compost dirt, in spite of my insistence that we not throw anything with seeds in there, some always seem to make it in and we get an unexpected crop. This year it appears to be melon. So I’m going with that too, as far as six plants go. I’m afraid the rest will have to be let go. Melons, anyone?
Our landscape itself is growing and changing as we adapt to the natural shifts that happen with things we have in our yard. When I lost my father a few years back I got a dwarf Japanese maple tree in his honor. It is extremely happy in our little curved Zen garden — so much so that it’s sweeping branches now drip across our lawn where the lawnmower could do some damage. The solution? Go with the flow. Pull the edging out from its concave curve into a convex one, enlarging the space into a rock garden where the branches will be safe, and oddly enough, our little Buddha statue — who has been moved all over the yard in search of his proper place — sits happily on the patio stones in front of the little tree. It is wonderfully symbolic.
And there is growing inside, too, as the fruits of our labor in letting our son go his own way with much of his learning begin to blossom. Two years ago we pulled back on “teaching” reading and letting him find his path. It led him to Calvin and Hobbes comics and today he sat at the dinner table for nearly half an hour, on his own, reading through the book. And actually reading. Reading words we have no idea how he knows, and certainly can’t sound out. We also stopped trying to teach spelling, understanding he needed context to care, allowing him to ask how to spell things, telling him, believing that if he asked enough eventually it would stick. For him it came (and continues to) by looking things up online. Police information. Lego building ideas. Rescue toys. Diecast. Construction. Rescue. He asks how to spell “telescopic fork lift”, or “road work” and a few weeks later he wakes up in the morning and says, “Hey Mom – yesterday I spelled “road”. I started it, thought that is wasn’t right and realized it was r-o-a-d. I did “diecast”, too!”
Yup, there’s a lot of growing. In us, as well, as we continue to learn to trust our son’s ability to learn without always being directly taught. To trust the wonder of what can happen when his curiosity is encouraged. To marvel in accidental seed growth, a peach tree in our back yard, and a Buddha finally finding his home because a tree outgrew its space. It’s all silly with symbolism. And all full of happy.
Hope your spring is unfolding as wonderfully as ours.
Namaste.








