Reflections on gardening shortcomings.
Show shyness, embarrassment, or shame by becoming red in the face. (Google "to blush meaning.")
Literary: be or become pink or pale red.
[1] Autumn sedum - in an empty, soilless, broken transporting pot, several weeks after relocation from the Mother Garden, its bare roots having the benefit of rainwater accumulated on the lid of the plastic bin on top of which it is set that is meant to neatly corral the bags of soil - none of which have actually been emptied into said bin.
[2] Tomatoes on the vine - from seeds of fruits eaten last year at the Mother Ship, then haphazardly tossed into a pot there, where they grew and crowded each other, but yielded starts when I was too late in the season to begin, and Mama Hen was looking to thin out.
[3] Mophead hydrangea - the only healthy one this year, all the others having suffered from overcrowding by shiso or amaranth due to a plant mommy who has been very neglectful this year.
[4] Teardrop grape tomatoes - sweet, fruit of a volunteer that came up in the hydrangea planter, helping to salvage tomato season, even if it came in incredibly leggy from a late in season relocation. Sis and I partook of a couple of ripe red ones today, and they were tasty! But we forgot to save seeds. Well, a few more are on the vine for that To Do.
Still just trying the best I can. Despite the years of conditioned embarrassment at achieving less than perfection, I am concertedly attempting to embrace that there is no shame in making the effort and endeavoring to do. Some level of doneness is better than never having embarked. If repeated enough, this becomes a mantra, and then maybe, a belief, perhaps someday graduating into a perception of truth - and grace of forgiveness of oneself.
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