Sisyphean Gardening

Sometimes I feel like I am losing the plot. Be it my garden plot, the Israel plot, and the state of the world plot, nothing makes sense.  And with no solution in sight, I am resigned to an interminable hope that peace will come. Someday. Somehow.

These are the times that drive me into my garden in search of solace. But these days, my garden is failing me. Or I am failing myself. The verdant, refreshing look of spring has been replaced by unrelenting heat and dust. Every plant that is not on a watering system is now dead, crispy, and exoskeletal, save for our resilient hollyhocks and sunflowers. The weeds are in their full glory, nestling along the watering lines where I am foolishly trying to grow peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes. 

This year I proudly announced (to myself) that I would not plant seedlings bought from a nursery but would plant all the vegetables straight into the ground from seed packets. I soon realized that this is a challenging undertaking. 

Firstly, many seeds are miniscule and need a surgeon’s precision and patience to plant. Don’t think of sneezing while you are planting these microscopic seeds. And if a tiny breeze were to gently gasp when you open that packet and pour the contents into your hand, all is for naught. 

Secondly, my seeds have taken forever to sprout. This gives the weeds plenty of time to amass, proliferate, and frolic about. I look for a sign of a sprout and see nothing but weed chaos. And when I try to stop a tiny seedling from suffocating by weeding around it, I often end up zealously pulling it right out. 

It is nearly June and with no real summer plants to speak of here on ‘the farm,’ I have a sense of futility and unproductivity, and reconsider what I am doing and why I am doing this. 

And then, a friend came to visit. As most of my daily conversation is directed towards chickens, my dog, my cat – and, yes, poor Amir, I was feeling socially unpracticed to entertain a real person. My friend came here, walked around, and asked me all the difficult questions. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“It must cost so much to water, right?” 

“What is the point if there is no money to me made?” 

I looked out at this brittle piece of land and tried to reconnect to my original organic garden/food forest vision but nothing came. To make things worse, I went out at sunset to reconnect with my lost vision and was attacked by fire ants, running inside with huge welts across my back.

I then listened to a permaculture video where the guy told the bare truth; this approach to farming is unforgiving and will eat you up alive. It will chew you up and spit you out. But it will also be incredibly meaningful.

We have made many life changes and have never looked for easy street. In fact, we tend to be extreme and head straight into the challenge. We toss away comfort looking for meaning underneath. So should I be surprised that I am tired and achy, hot and bothered, covered in welts and that my seeds have barely sprouted?

I am working the land of Israel by hand. The soil is rocky and clay like, the ants are hyperactive, and the weeds are tyrannical. Who else in their right mind would want to weed in intense heat knowing these intrusive plants will return in a few days? I feel like Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill only to have it roll down again and start all over. For eternity. 

I may be insane, but at least I have a healthy mission. As the permaculture guru in the video said, “You are successful if you are leaving the ecosystem better than when you found it.” I may be obsessive, but I could save a seedling or two that may grow into a hot pepper plant before the ice age arrives. Peace will be here by then, that much I know. Ok, Sisyphus, roll ‘er up.