I’m in my plant lady era—here’s why you should be, too

A lettered quote from Mahogany contributing writer Rachel Marie Kang that reads,

I didn’t think they’d make it, the zinnia seeds I planted.

It was in April on the east coast, and it was the sunniest it’d been since winter. For a moment, I thought maybe I should save some seeds. You know the old adage: “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

But the weather was warm and the sun was bright and, after a few days of that summer-like weather, it felt like we finally turned the corner, leaving winter behind. So, my sons and I scattered all the seeds. And I ignored the thought that maybe, just maybe, I should save a precautionary few in case this batch didn’t come to sprout.

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We watered the seeds.  

Then, we eagerly watched and waited until, wouldn’t you know, a frigid frost came just a few days later. Rookie mistake to plant seeds before the danger of last frost, I know.

Truth is, I’m no farmer. I’m just a woman who loves to watch beautiful things grow. I’m a woman who relishes in the mystery of seeds. The magic of how, when buried, seeds endure and survive long seasons of darkness. The miracle of how life can spring forth from something so deeply hidden and, at times, seemingly dead.

I’m a woman who tends to plants as a prophetic act of belief in what can be true of people, too. That, of the seeds we sow in the world and in the lives of those we know, life can and will take root and flourish abundantly beyond anything we can fathom…even, and especially, when it doesn’t seem like it.

Still, I hoped.  

When the bitter wind blew and the ground froze cold, just days after I’d scattered all my self-harvested zinnia seeds across the soil, I was convinced they wouldn’t make it. I remember verbalizing my disbelief out loud, whispering to myself in the weeks that followed: “They’re not going to make it,” and, “I can’t believe I just wasted all my hard-earned seeds.”

Still, I watered. Still, I watched. Still, I hovered. Still, I hoped.

And then, weeks later, wouldn’t you know, my sons and I saw not one but seven zinnias sprouting up through the cold, hard dirt. As the days passed, one by one by one, we watched these zinnias bloom and blossom, sprouting with stalks nearly as tall as me.

It was a miracle.  

And also? The metaphor isn’t lost on me. We cannot control the conditions or the circumstances that surround us. We cannot control the chaos of the world nor its wind and weather. Neither can we control the choices of the ones we know and love. We cannot make the seeds of our children or relationships or friendships come or sprout or bloom or blossom.

We can only be faithful to steward the seeds in our hands, sowing them tenderly and keeping close watch even when it all seems in vain.

This is why I’m in my plant lady era, and why you should be, too. I need the promise of seeds sprouting despite the cold and even still. I need the reminder that hope holds through the darkness. Not only for seeds in dirt but in and through the lives of the ones I love.

So, tend to your plants, sis, whether indoors or in that gorgeous garden of yours. Be fully in your plant lady era. Whatever your season, know that growth and goodness are on the other side. Know that winter doesn’t last forever. Know that hope will flourish and flowers will come.

Rachel Marie Kang is the author of "Let There Be Art" and "The Matter of Little Losses." She writes in poignant prose on themes of culture, art and faith. Rachel lives in the New York metro with her husband and two sons. Find her work and words at rachelmariekang.com.