When Shaya brought home the wicker basket with the dirt and small wheat berries in it, I wondered where we were going with this.
Where did he want to keep it, would he remember to water it and, when he was away from home, would we remember? Would it die like so many plants we forgot to water over the years? Or would it grow and if it did, what would we do with the resulting wheatgrass?
In short, what was the plan?
Kids bring home seeds from school that they’ve nurtured as something new, something to grow, something to create out of nothing. They see a huge hope for the future, a crop yield, a result.
Me, I see dirt around the house and hopeless despair when, from neglect, nothing happens.
Except two years ago, Shaya brought home a green bean plant seeded and watered in a clear plastic cup at school and asked me to replant it in the brick border planter on our patio.
We did and lo and behold, the green beans grew incredibly large and abundant, their long pods hanging down from the curling vine and all summer, we snapped a bean from the plant to crunch between our teeth as an afterthought while we listened to the music playing above the backyard.
So growth is possible. Yield is possible. Anything is possible if you want it to be.
The wicker basket frayed and the dirt started to seep out. The plant wasn’t looking very virulent. I felt sad for it already.
So I called Shaya at his dad’s house and asked what his plans were for the wheatgrass. The answer was a question mark.
My husband found a sturdy clay pot, brought it inside and delicately transferred the budding wheatgrass into it, discarding the wicker with ease.
“It was hard,” he said, and I’ve never heard my husband claim that anything was hard.
The clay pot perches precariously on a small pie tin to catch the inevitable water that drips through, unconsumed by the soil. It turns yellow in its holding tank and I toss it into the sink several times a day.
Within 48 hours, the wheatgrass is spearing toward the sky, growing like weeds, I have to say, eager and abundant, so present in our kitchen.
What then, I asked Shaya. What does one do with wheatgrass?
We should look up some recipes for wheatgrass smoothies, he said, assured that there is a purpose to this growth, an end game, an outcome so satisfying that it will quench our thirst.
For what, is what I wonder.
The satisfaction that we can, indeed, create something from a seed?
With so many gardens gone wrong in years past, I am reluctant to set my hopes and dreams on a simple planting. There’ve been rabbits and deer and groundhogs. They’ve come at my plantings from all sides, from underneath and above.
But perhaps all that was missing was the simple belief that it is possible, that it will come, that we will see results.
Happily, I’m ok with that.