I spent a significant amount of time early this spring trying to get some vegetable plants started. I got approximately six green peppers for my hard work. Most of the plants died or morphed into fairly useless green weed-looking things. They might in fact be weeds. I’ve stopped caring.
But just like the ancient mystics have been teaching us for eons, it is only when you stop caring that you truly see. A month or so ago, in a fit of frustrated farmer rage, I took an old sweet potato that had been sprouting in a kitchen drawer and threw it into about the nastiest place in my yard — full of weeds, not much sunlight, dying plants all around. And wouldn’t you know it? It’s doing great. Meet the crazy sweet potato vine:
It’s about eight feet long. Everywhere the vine is touching the ground there are little roots taking hold and burrowing into the soil. Eventually, I’m told, new sweet potatoes will grow from those roots and I’ll be the sweet potato king of South Carolina.
There’s an important life lesson in there somewhere. I can’t quite put a finger on it.
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