The solstice approaches and there is certainly a sense of near-ripeness in my garden.
We are so far harvesting little. This is partly because of what seems like a lot of failed germination, as well as slug attacks (despite precautions!) This is always an important lesson to me in how nature cannot be controlled. It’s also an important lesson in correlation to my personal life and inner world where seeds also do not always germinate, where projects also get sabotaged – or just don’t work out – and where harvests are slower than expected or don’t happen at all. I’ve come to realise that this is probably why May and June can sometimes be difficult months for me; as I’ve written before, I love times of new beginnings, when there is glimmering hope and promise and optimistic goal-setting. I sparkle in that glimmer, but I’m not so good at the blood, sweat and tenacity of persevering with those goals and seeing them though; particularly of summoning up the courage to really meet with and wrestle a challenge.
Here in summertime the lack of progress with goals I made at the beginning of the year often becomes frustratingly apparent. As the Queen of Unrealistic Expectations – particularly of myself – as the solstice approaches and I roughly tally up goals achieved v goals nearly met, I realise, again, that perhaps some goals maybe weren’t so achievable.
But there is still promise. There is still time. A college tutor once told me (perhaps foolishly) that some people work best leaving their essay until the day before the deadline.
So I think that we can celebrate and be thankful for what we have achieved so far.