The Black-Thumb Farmer

I'm a farmer who sucks at growing things. Here are my thoughts about that.

Someone else’s dead plant, not mine. Tee hee. Photo by Jonathan Lusilva.

It’s okay not to be good at everything. In fact, it’s totally okay to absolutely suck at some things... and if you’re like me, to openly admit it.

I was actually going to include a photo of my tomato plants with this post but then I was too embarrassed. Because they look maybe not terrible, but definitely not great. I over-watered them and then I forgot to cover them when the temperature dipped to 38 degrees overnight. They’re still alive for now, but these are not the first plants that I’ve f*cked up, as my husband likes to lovingly tease me about.

The thing is, as a farmer, I am fantastic at taking care of animals. Like, top tier. I’m not trying to brag, but the truth is that I take pride in how well I care for my critters. They all get the best nutrition, the most species-appropriate living arrangements and the best attention I can provide. I learn their language and behaviors, get to know their personalities and pay close attention to their physical and emotional states. That’s very often not the case for domesticated animals, especially livestock.

But plants? That is a whole ‘nother story. After years of trying, I’ve just never developed a passion for growing things. Goodness knows I’ve tried to grow a variety of veggies and fruits, and in some cases succeeded — but usually with the help of my husband. I forget to water them sometimes, and figuring out soil pH and fertilizer and, ya know, all the elements important to growing is apparently like algebra for my brain: tedious, difficult and boring at the same time. Maybe if plants moved around and squawked at me I would be more interested, but alas. I started learning about the native plants on my property mainly because they already grow themselves.

For a while I beat myself up about this apparent lack on my part. In school I was nearly a straight-A student (except for math, obviously!), and I’ve always been a hard worker. I don’t like failing at things. And I worried that my black thumb invalidated me as a farmer — like, who would ever take a tomato-killer seriously?

But the thing is, in life, we really can’t be good at everything. And that’s okay. Because we all bring something different to the table that’s needed. Other people are amazing produce growers and I gratefully enjoy the fruits of their labor. Meanwhile, not everyone who skillfully keeps their tomato plants alive and thriving knows how to dress a wound on a chicken or formulate a diet for an allergy-prone horse.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that it’s okay to step back from the things that aren’t really our bag, in order to spend more time and energy on the things we’re really into and good at. It doesn’t mean that it’s all right to just always give up, but sometimes the struggle to stick with something that doesn’t jive is unnecessary.

I’ll keep plugging away with my tomatoes and the couple of other veggies I plan to grow, because I really do want to have those things to eat. Fingers crossed that I’ll keep everything alive and healthy long enough to bear fruit. But I’m not going to force myself to do more than that for the sake of having a well-rounded resume. I’ll remain here in my little corner, petting chickens and planning the next shade of eggs to add to my cartons when we get more chicks (I’m thinking blue next!).

Success and failure are equal partners in the formation of the human experience. And while it’s tempting to cover up the failures, it’s disingenuous to do so. Besides, just as we appreciate the sun more on a cold, windy day, we can appreciate our own talents more when we see them against the backdrop of the things we’ve tried and weren’t so good at.

It’s all a matter of perspective, and of knowing that we aren’t all required to ace every endeavor.