Friday, February 13, 2015

SOWING AND REAPING

I dropped some seeds into my Dad's dirt-filled, outdoor planters a few years ago. I stopped by one day, and noticed there were clover-like sprouts completely covering the dirt. I don't know if they were watermelon seeds, peach pits, or bell pepper seeds I'd had. All I do know is that my Dad said the neighborhood deer sashayed themselves up to the porch one afternoon, and had dinner.
The plan, at the time I dropped the seeds in the soil, was to see if something would happen. That's all. Something did. Before I could fully appreciate it, or put my follow-up plan into action, most of the leafy parts of the plants were gone, and only stems remained. I was going to replant the contents of the planters in the back yard and, once again, see what happened.
A watermelon patch would have been nice, but then fresh bell peppers would have been, too. There were no plans to become a suburban farmer. There were no plans to feed deer. I haphazardly planted seeds (that I'd initially planned to toss into the trash can), and what is supposed to happen when you plant good seeds, happened. I wonder what would have happened if I had been more purposeful? What if I had actually tended to what I had sown, and not just let it fend for itself?

Sometimes, you reap unidentifiable stuff. It's not unidentifiable because there's no reason or logic to it. It's unidentifiable because you don't or can't remember, or aren't willing to acknowledge what you've sown. Not remembering or owning up is especially convenient when things don't turn out very well. When the seeds one has sown grow into something wilder than anticipated, or presents a problem, whose fault is it? What happens to the harvest may not even matter to the sower, but it will probably impact something or someone else. What if that impact is harmful?

My seed sowing was harmless. Thank goodness the deer weren't violent, but my sowing attracted them, not to my front door (although there are quite a few deer in the hood), but to the un-fenced portion of my Dad's yard. He was fascinated by them, but what if my Dad didn't like looking at deer in such an up-close and personal way? They did poop on his doorstep. He wasn't exactly thrilled about that, but he didn't make a fuss. He was actually hopeful for the plants' survival.

All actions, even harmless ones, eventually yield consequences. When it matters; when it counts, be careful what you sow. 

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