Every spring hope pokes up in the fertile loam of my optimistic (Shawn would substitute delusional) heart and I plant.

Even the back side of a sunflower is lovely. I didn’t even see the cobwebs in the view finder.

This year I bribed and badgered two of my daughters into joining me in my overgrown backyard bed. We cleared away the dead plants from last year and a bumper crop of weeds aided by ample rains. I promised that I would only make them work for an hour.

After maybe 17 minutes, one of them drifted off to play with the dog while the other kept at the task with only a little grumbling. She planted a half dozen zinnias and a few hot pink marguerite daisies with gentle care. Then she opened a packet of tiny seeds spilling them into a concentrated spot of earth instead of gently scattering them over several square feet of soil.

Meanwhile I dug hurried holes for tomatoes and poked bush green bean seeds into the Miracle Gro mixture I use to loosen the clay-laden ground. Then other duties and interests called and it was another two or ten days before I got back to my garden.

The dog delights in digging in the fluffy fertile loam from Lowe’s and had evicted one of my tomato plants. I found it in the back corner, wilted but still green. So I said a prayer and plunked it into its original spot.

An unrepentant digger

I pulled out tomato cages and placed them over each plant, wrestling the growing limbs with loving care into the wiry funnels. Then I arranged a doggie barricade around the raised bed.

Another week later, I cajoled all three girls into hoisting bags of mulch from the bed of the battered Dakota and carrying them into the yard. Then one of them helped me open bags and scatter ebony bits of bark over the ground. The other two played with the dog and giggled with each other.They are all over the age of 17.

Then I pretty much left the garden to its own devices. A few minutes of weeding here and there, ample showers and little else.

Way back around April Fool’s Day, we’d pulled many a weed with large heart-shaped leaves, but I knew what they were and I chose to leave six or ten in certain spots. Now these chosen weeds rise high above everything else in the bed. They sport bright blossoms that lift my chin.

God is in the details.

One or two of them, though, are crowding out the tomatoes, shading their fruit and hampering their growth. I’ll probably pull a few of the giants so the tomatoes will have the chance to thrive.

Sunflowers soar to the sky and encroach on the fragile tomatoes.

The truth is, I’m not a diligent gardener. I’m easily distracted. Shawn says I’m like the dog in “Up.” I’m in the middle of a task or a conversation and… “SQUIRREL!” I also tend to be like my girls in that I’m easily bored. The idea of gardening often sounds better than getting in the dirt with rampant evil trumpet vines and ghost-white grubs.

But you know what? I haven’t given up. I harvested a plastic colander full of green beans on the same morning I pulled a bin full of weeds. I took a picture of both of them because life is not Pinterest-worthy most of the time. It’s mix of delicious produce and invasive weeds.

Sometimes we have to say goodbye to some eye-catching blossoms to make room for the real food.

And even a well-meaning absent-minded gardener can enjoy the fruits of her labor – and hope for better yields next year.

“It’s not important who does the planting, or who does the watering. What’s important is that God makes the seed grow.” – 1 Corinthians 3:7

“When you put a seed into the ground, it doesn’t grow into a plant unless it dies first.”        – 1 Corinthians 15:38