Pride and Cabbage

Remembering Yardi Gras 2021
March 2, 2021
Shamrockin’ Meal Time
March 2, 2021

First, I showed the picture to my husband. 

He didn’t say much. Simply looked at me like he knew this was about to be an ordeal. 



“Aren’t you impressed?” I asked. 

“Wow,” he said. 

One word. That’s all. He knew I wanted more. 



“No, seriously. It’s so amazing.”

At this point, we were too far gone to try to resume normalcy. I needed him to acknowledge how amazing, wonderful and captivating the picture was that I was holding in front of him on my phone. Maybe my timing was wrong, I thought. I should have shown him first thing in the morning, not last thing at night. 

But no, he really wasn’t interested – even if I would have shown him at 5 a.m., when he usually wakes up. 



“But it’s the biggest cabbage I’ve ever grown,” I whined. (And whining is entirely accurate. I needed him to notice. I needed him to act like I was the world’s best gardener. and acknowledge my green thumb greatness. I got nothing but a tired wow.)

It’s ok though. I resorted to what most people resort to in a moment of emotional crisis. I posted my picture on Facebook. Changed my profile picture from my husband and I to myself and my massive cabbage. He rolled his eyes, and I smiled. I couldn’t stop giggling about replacing him with the cabbage. 

One friend immediately texted: “You’re so proud of yourself, aren’t you?”



Yes. Yes I am. Thanks for noticing. 

Another friend tried impressing me by holding a fake cabbage in Hobby Lobby as comparison. I didn’t even acknowledge it. Not even a tired wow. Please stop, I said. 

I group-text my mom and dad, wondering if they would feel some sort of familial pride in the cabbage grown by their daughter. I got back the response I wanted. “Amazing!”



Why, thank you. Thank you very much. 

I’m not much of an attention seeker, but when I wander into my garden after a few weeks of inattention (because if I’m honest, I’m a terrible cold-weather gardener. The cold drives me inside). But apparently my cabbage didn’t need me to hover over it. It grew on its own – all by its big, beautiful self. 

I may or may not have shown a few random strangers the cabbage picture when talking about gardening recently. I’m pretty sure they were impressed. Or they just acted impressed to get away and get out of the conversation. Either way…..



The cabbages, collards, cauliflower, broccoli and celery planted in my garden this winter are pretty much done with now, driven out by the approaching spring weather, as I prep for tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers and all the summer veggies I love. Gardening is a real thing. This time of year when March gives us all the spring feels, I want to be out there, turning over dirt, hovering over plants. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m pretty sure that giant cabbage grew so well because I wasn’t out there too much. It didn’t need me to grow. But I sure love acting like I helped it along. 

If I’m honest, the little area of garden is my little bit of safe space, where my soul resets and the world shrinks and massive cabbages become the priority. It’s solace in an uncertain world. It’s a bit of quiet, in a whole lot of loud. It’s simple when everything else feels confusing.

Maybe that’s why my cabbage made me smile. 



Or maybe I’m just really proud. 

Either way, just act like you care if I offer to show you my picture. Because it’s the most beautiful cabbage I’ve ever grown. POV