The day before yesterday when I was jonesing to get out into the garden, get my hands dirty, when I was anticipating enjoying the fruits of my efforts, I had a visceral understanding of why people would traditionally make a sacrifice to the gods to ensure a good harvest. Obviously for them it was more a matter of survival than it is for me, but just the feeling of being willing to do anything, look, I’ll even slit the throat of this cute little lamb and leave it on your altar, anything.
Yesterday I went first thing and bought myself a couple of new tools and then prepared a raised bed. Shored up with concrete blocks the far end which slopes down the hill. Used the shovel A LOT.
This morning, I realize what the sacrifice has been. My body. It’s hurtin’. Definitely not a cute little lamb, but something I’m apparently willing to put on the chopping block, in a manner of speaking, to make the garden happen.
I hope it is enough of a demonstration of my commitment to convince the sun, rain, soil and seeds to cooperate.