Fallow Ground

Yesterday, a cross-eyed dude in a funny flannel shirt came to my house. Apparently, he had been conscripted by the Bridagier General of the family (mummy...hahaa) to do some farm work on the small, uncemented area on the left side of the compound.

I was instantly intrigued by the whole thing. You see, the small 15×20 foot area looked nothing like farmland.
There was a lot of rubbish on there, it was hard, and there were thistles and some grass scattered about. Very unattractive.
And here my mum was talking about seedlings and grafts and whatnot.

Well, our cross-eyed friend got to work. He cleared the place of debris, channelled water from a nearby tap into the area, and proceeded to break the ground with a shovel. It was hard work. I could tell. Then he created two columns with four rows of mounds each, nice rectangular heaps of soil which would serve as a home and platform for growth for the seedlings (waterleaf, ugu and some other stuff that I was too busy staring at the guy to care about ).

By and by, the place looks really nice now, and though I can see nothing above ground, every time I look over there, I feel joyous anticipation, because I know that life is unfolding and getting ready to burst forth into clear view in due time.
The contrast between what the place was when we first moved in a while back, and what I know it will be soon enough, would be nothing short of amazing.
And this place was dry o. Fallow.

That's exactly what I think happens in our lives. We neglect some parts of our lives that look fallow and unattractive, even when we know it could be something wonderful, just because we're lazy, or it seems daunting, we're afraid, or insecure,  or we just don't have the time or resources for the ground work.

I think it's a thing of choice and priorities.
I've learned that my 'potential' won't put food on my table.
Typical example, I know that I have potential to be a kick-ass nurse. For real.
I've not met anybody that can take care of a person better than I can...lol.
But umm...I'm not going to nursing school abeg.
I'd much rather be a Singer/writer. So, that nursing matter is my yeye fallow ground.

Here's a funny fact though...until very recently, my writing was fallow ground.
I've always thought I had the 'potential' to write stuff people would read and get inspired by. But then, 'potential' is just a fancy word for hard, ugly, piece of fallow ground.

But one day, I made a choice to take the first step into this blissfully illustrious career: I bought a journal. Just a small book I use to document my thoughts. And since that day in December 2015, I've been on a journey that would surely result in a beautiful vegetable/fruit garden.

I dug my fallow ground. 

I really think everybody should.