Attached

As humans, we seem to find ourselves constantly latching onto different things. If you spend enough time with something you can easily find yourself stuck to it. Commonly you see people attached to their phones, or food, or even other people. Anything that has some sort of value to you can become almost sentimental and you develop emotions relating to it. When something bad happens to it, you can't help but feel upset, and when you're at the risk of losing it, you don't want to let go. You feel the need to keep it, protect it, and care for it.

After the first freezing temperatures hit the garden, I immediately noticed the changes. The leaves of all four tomato plants started to droop and turn from bright green to a grayish black. The leaves on the tips of the habaneros, serrano, bell pepper, jalapeño, and cayenne faded in color and adopted a crunchy texture. The celery survived and remained green while the carrots, cucumber, eggplant, snap peas, radishes, spinach, zucchini, and yellow crookneck squash were long gone.

Because the peppers weren't hit too bad by the changing weather, my dad decided he wanted to bring them inside. He transplanted the habaneros, serrano, cayenne, and jalapeño plants into a planter and created a little space for them in front of a window in our living room. He wanted to save them because he wasn't ready to let them die. You could almost say he was connected to them in a way. He was attached to the plants and didn't want to see them go. But what motivates this attachment that we possess? The Attachment Theory, as explained by simplypsychology.org, gives some insight to this big idea. Humans are naturally attached to other humans. This starts from the very instant we're born. We find ourselves attached to whoever our caregiver is. You also see that the caregivers find themselves attached to the young child. It's almost as if it's our natural instinct to become attached. Maybe this is why my dad was so fond of the plants. He didn't want to let them go. He wanted to care for them a little while longer.

The death of the tomato plants is inevitable. They're quite large and vulnerable to the cold temperatures. After all, they started to fall apart just overnight. Even though their lives are coming to an end, they continued to hold on to dozens of tomatoes. Why didn't they all start to fall off? Is it maybe because the plants are attached to their offspring as well? The bonds were strong, especially on the unripened tomatoes, but my dad and I managed to cut off every single last tomato from the plants. Big, small, green, red. The pile of tomatoes on our kitchen counter was enormous. Part of me felt a little bad for stripping the plants completely of their most prized possessions, but if we didn't cut them off, they would've died with the plants. Maybe sometimes it's good to cut that strong attachment from something.

I never thought when starting this garden that I'd love it so much. I myself feel an attachment toward the plants. I never wanted to see them die and it makes me kind of sad that they're gone, but that also makes me really excited to start a new garden next year. Considering how I felt this year, I can almost guarantee that next year I'll be just as attached. It doesn't take much to grab my attention. I find beauty in simplicity. Maybe that's why I love my garden so much. And maybe that's why I hooked on, and never let go.