On Sowers, Reapers, And Nurturers

Ah--the sweet smell of success! My basil and oregano are ready for lasagna.

"She's harvesting!" my husband joked, but I believe he was equally as thrilled. Hubby comes from a strong background of reapers.

I have long held the philosophy that all humans fall into one of three categories: sowers, nurturers, or reapers. I am a born sower, hard-wired for creation. My joy comes from the simple moment of birth. I can plant more seeds, conjure more dreams, and start more projects (often at the same time) than anyone I know.

My husband, by contrast, is a natural reaper. Reapers find joy in finishing things. Sounds terrible, doesn't it?  But, permit me to submit into evidence Exhibit A: the sacrificial scything of our rosemary. As soon as our terraced rosemary bushes became a bit unruly, Hubby decided they must go. Actually, he comes with a long rap-sheet of ruthless reaping.  Exhibit B: When we moved to the desert, we were enchanted with our first home which served as an (unnatural) habitat for twenty-nine transplanted palm trees. But every time my dear soulmate cleaned the pool he cursed the heavy foliage that surrounded our personal Garden of Eden. Each Sunday, I went to church,  returning at noon to discover one less tree. Paul Bunyan didn't see that much action. Indeed, at that time, my reaper hubby deserved the moniker "Grim."

It occurred to me more than once that all the chopping was an act of passive aggression against my insistence on going to church. But as I became more enlightened, I realized Hubby just couldn't help himself. He was born a reaper. The moment life looks a bit cluttered, he feels compelled to tidy it up. And if you're a born sower, a reaper is handy to have around. We sowers tend to be very messy.

The other obvious problem with sowers is...we're not always good about seeing things through. Once we've planted the seeds and the first sprigs sprout, our enthusiasm fades and we are distracted by the possibility of the next birth. That's where the nurturers come in. Nurturers find bliss in caring for the world, in lovingly bringing life to fruition. They are the guardians of the Universe. Without nurturers, no creative acts would bear fruit. My mother was a great nurturer. And I believe my daughter is, as well.

I theorize that all of us are capable of crossing the categorical boundaries of sowers to nurturers to reapers. My reaper husband has been a great nurturer of my herb garden. Tonight, with my fresh basil- and-oregano-seasoned lasagna, I will reap, and savor the fruits of my harvest. And tomorrow I will sow more herb seeds. I'm almost giddy with anticipation. But for now--Bon Appetit!