We look for reasons to plant, but what if we do so without any at all . . . . .
The weather is getting wetter nowadays but the morning sun is still as comforting as can be. We have to be thankful that we are not robbed of the opportunity to connect to the earth, at least. The early few hours of bright warm light is generous enough for urban farmers like me to get into some serious action.
I was so delighted to plant my Vietnamese mint cuttings, or what we call laksa in local context, this morning. It was the second variety of laksa plants that I have collected. That moment, I saw the next door uncle at my gate gesturing for me to go over.
“Okay, my plants have crossed the boundary yet again. I have to promise him to trim it,” I thought. Feeling guilty, I walked to him pretending to be relaxed. But I felt really relaxed when I saw a plastic bag in his hand as I knew I was about to receive some goodies!
Twelve nice okras, not too long and not too short, of the exact size and ripeness that an auntie like me would like to pick up in the wet market. Uncle said to me in Hokkien, “These okras are for you. They are from the seeds that you gave me a few months ago. And these few seeds are for you to plant.” I was speechless but I knew I had to say something so I told him to keep it for his family, and . . . . . and so on so forth . . . . , but my disobedient arms reached out for it.
When I started serious gardening five years ago, I did not expect an exchange of harvest to happen between me and my neighbours. It has since become a common scene between us. So, why give yourself a serious reason to plant, when planting will yield some unexpected significance in the later part of your lives? Well, just plant it!
Before uncle left for home, I asked him “Does auntie cook laksa? I have plenty of leaves!”