Garden woes
I’m ready for this shmitta year of ours to be over. Yes, I’ve been observing — more or less — this seventh year of rest for the land, mostly because it was the first time that I had a garden of my own and I was charmed and intrigued by the idea of learning about and following a new area of halacha.

But at this point, I’m over shmitta. I’m tired of not being able to plant new flowers, bushes and vines in my little patch of green. Sure, I’ve gotten by, found my loopholes by putting flowers in planters and pots, and placing them around the garden. That was an idea given to me by a rabbi friend who said the prohibition against planting is just for the actual soil of the land of Israel, not the potting soil used in ceramic pots.
My fingers are itching to get in some new succulents, to replace the red-leaf bush that mysteriously died in one corner and to figure out what happened to the parsley, basil and strawberries that didn’t quite make it either. Sure, I’ve been making do with weeding, trimming and cutting grass, but it’s not the same as getting your hands dirty in the actual soil of the land.
My new gardener friend at the local nursery has been commiserating with me, telling me to make do with fertilizing the lawn, and remarking that it’s a long year for all of us. In the meantime, he and I stroll around the plants in the nursery, talking about which will be right to plant come October, once Rosh Hashana is over.
Of course, by then I’ll be about eight months pregnant and won’t be doing much digging or planting, but there’s always the rest of the family. My free labor, I like to call them. And this way, we all feel that sense of satisfaction that comes from hard, sweaty work, and knowing that we’ve followed shmitta through to the end, and don’t have to worry about it for another seven years. By then, we’ll have had our fill of limes and nectarines, along with a new batch of parsley, basil and strawberries.












