by Rabbi Megan Doherty
I am a terrible gardener. But I garden anyway.
I hate weeding. I water my plants too much, or too little.
I don’t know from fertilizer, or mulch, or those fancy cages which keep out the deer and the birds.
I live in rural Ohio, and when I look at the thriving mini-farms my neighbors create and tend, I want to throw my hands up in despair.
But I plant.
One year, my dad showed up at our house with a bunch of lumber and built raised beds in our backyard. The process was a beacon for awestruck kindergartners, who showed up with ...
