Plucking Up – Thinning With a Hint of Melancholy

The chore of thinning plants is always laced with a hint of melancholy. As the weather warms and plants emerge from the ground,  the visual affirmation that winter has released its grip provides a refreshing dose of optimism. But just like most human endeavors, gardening is a game of percentages and risk. Over planting ensures that if some seeds fail to germinate, there will be enough others to use the allotted space efficiently. However, if most seeds germinate, selective thinning is required to prevent overcrowding. Some of those sprouting seeds that herald the arrival of spring must be sacrificed for the greater good.

Early thinning is usually a complete loss because the plants are so small, but later thinning (like the Fire and Ice Radishes pictured above)  provides the season’s first fruits. These tender delicacies offer a hint of what’s to come, and their removal ensures that the remaining plants have ample room to develop fully.

Maybe there is more to this than meets the eye.

In a country where most of us have an overabundance of things,  I think there is ample room for thinning in many aspects of our lives. Perhaps we need to get on our knees more often and cultivate what’s important by yanking out some of that overabundance that limits the full development of our most important crops.

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About the author:

Picture of Michael J. Dowling

Michael J. Dowling

Growing Interest is where I write about my river life, faith, gardening, and whatever else catches my interest along the way. I like finding the lessons hiding in ordinary moments. My goal is simple: always be growing.