Write something that has to do with: perfection.
Kat and I transplanted all of our tomato plants into the garden this morning. Just the two of us. Didn't even take all morning.
I guess that's what happens when you have fifty-something plants instead of three hundred-something plants.
Pretty sure I can get used to this reducing the size of our garden thing.
After dinner I finished spot weeding the next row of strawberries and almost managed to get it fully mulched as well. It got dark just a little too soon for that to happen. But I was happy to have gotten so much done so quickly.
But at what cost...
It's really hard for me to only partially weed the remaining strawberries. Like, really, really hard.
I know there's no other choice at this point. It has to get done fast. I'm going through tomorrow morning for the first pick of the year - there won't be much, but that will change quickly. More and more berries will be turning red and ripe every day and they need mulch to rest on, not dirt.
So that means I have to pull the worst of the weeds, the stuff that would prevent mulch from getting to where it needs to go, and leave the rest. I have to be firm with myself. I can't get back into the habit of finding every last weed, untangling them one by one from the plants I'm trying to help. If I do that I'll end up finishing off the final row around the same time the berries are done for the season.
But, for me, that means letting go. Letting go of this picture in my mind of how I want the rows to look. Letting go of this neat and tidy ideal and accepting that there will be weeds poking up here and there. Letting go... of perfection.
Honestly, for the rows to look how I want them to before it's time to start harvesting from them I'd need two full time helpers. But it's just me. So I need to get it done, not perfectly but close enough, and move on.
But oh, at what cost...