[title subtitle=”WORDS Jessica Sowards
IMAGES Jessica Sowards and Fotokostic/Shutterstock”][/title]
We are going to have to talk about the elephant in the room. The big, imposing elephant called Coronavirus that stepped on our plans for 2020 and left them in shattered ruins. The blinking cursor has been mocking as I’ve sat down to write this article half a dozen times. I’ve stared at a blank screen and asked myself, “How do I write about anything else?”
It is spring. I love spring. I am a gardener, a hobby farmer. Therefore, I spend the long months of winter planning and dreaming of the green returning to the world around me, of life coming back and sinking my hands into the soil once again. This year was no exception. I counted down the days of February, I planned my seeds, ordered chicks to be delivered by mail, bred my goats and amended the garden beds. I was ready.
I took a work trip to Iowa at the start of March, planning on returning from my trip and jumping headlong into the task of waking the farm up for this year’s growing season. I was mentally prepared for the hard work that would ensue. I love Spring, not because she is easy but because she is rewarding. I was ready, or so I thought.
During my trip, the spread of Covid-19 began to overtake my newsfeed. The airplane ride home was a tense one. Within days of being home, schools began to send students home, store shelves became bare, and fear spread in a way that could only be called viral.
I won’t lie. I was afraid. Change is bewildering and I’d never experienced such intense change at such a rapid rate. I’ve lived my whole life as a safe, sustained American. I’d never seen bare shelves at my grocery store before this. It has been a bewildering thing. We canceled the large homesteading event we host every year. We looked on, shell shocked, as our calendar cleared for months ahead, as the whole world seemed to shut down.
I spent a few days reeling, processing the change and finding my bearings. My teenage son sat at the end of our kitchen table, realizing that all of his plans for the remainder of the school year were falling away, and he screamed, “So this can just happen? How is this able to just happen?” I was silent in response, realizing that I had the same thoughts ricocheting inside my own mind. I just lacked the teenage zeal required to voice them so earnestly.
I have lived my entire life as an optimist. In every situation, I find the bright side. I spot the silver lining. I weed through the weeds of failure and brush off a bright, shiny harvest of wisdom. Sometimes it is easier than others. Sometimes, situations are obviously hopeful. Other times, it’s a little harder, but I get there in the end.
This spring has been the strangest season I think I’ve ever experienced. The baby chicks still came. We planted the garden. The goats still gave birth. The days have been filled with joy, punctuated with concern. We have daily danced the dance of caution mixed with hard work and what we have left of our usual routine. We have laughed so much.
We have cried. We are sick and tired of being at home, but I think I will look back on these months forever, the months that I spent more time with my teenagers than I have in years, the months our schedules were cleared and our family was at the top of the priority list with no competition.
We tripled our garden this year. We built a high tunnel greenhouse and gave away a thousand plants that had been intended for the event we had to cancel. As we’ve walked through the murky water of everything-changing, we’ve found our footing and found that we, humanity, are so much more resilient that we realized.
I cannot offer a conclusion to this chaotic season. I cannot tell you what we have carried out of it, because frankly, we are not out of it. I can say, though, that what will come of this will be good. Spring isn’t lovely because it’s easy, it’s worthy because the hard work put into this season yields a harvest later. I can’t help but think maybe a lot of people sowed seeds during these months, in their homes and their families and in themselves. A lot of people slowed down and maybe, just maybe, something beautiful will grow from it.
That’s what I’m hoping for at least. Of course, I am an optimist and I do love spring.
To watch Jessica’s garden tours, visit her YouTube channel, Roots and Refuge.
