Dead logs? Or undiscovered treasures in the making?

June has arrived in a whirlwind, leaving me wondering where April and May disappeared to. The homestead has been bustling with activity—dusting off gardening tools, rediscovering misplaced equipment, and diving into the rhythm of spring. Homesteading, much like life, is a dance of preparation and anticipation, a constant cycle of hurrying up to wait.

This year, seeds sown in February in the greenhouse have finally taken root in the soil. My third-year asparagus, after three patient years of nurturing, has burst forth with delicious shoots. The wait was long, but the reward is sweet—these crowns could yield harvests for up to 25 years, a testament to the value of perseverance.

Another project, started in February 2024, involved cutting dormant birch trees to inoculate with shiitake mushroom spawn. For over a year, those logs have rested in a quiet pile, colonizing beneath the surface. Will they remain mere logs, or will they transform into something extraordinary? Shiitake mushrooms, like asparagus, promise years of future harvests, but their outcome remains a mystery, stirring both hope and uncertainty.

These endeavors mirror my own journey. At times, I’ve felt like a seed buried in the earth, an asparagus crown slowly developing, or a seemingly lifeless birch log hiding potential within. Life often asks us to wait, to grow in the quiet moments, even when the results aren’t yet visible. Not every effort blooms as we envision, but there’s wisdom in the waiting, in tending to the tools of our lives—both literal and metaphorical.

Have you ever felt like a dormant log, wondering if your potential will ever surface? Take heart. Growth happens in the pauses, in the slow and steady work of becoming. An old birch log, unremarkable at first glance, can one day yield exquisite shiitake mushrooms, producing abundance for years to come. So, are we dead logs or treasures in the making? Perhaps a bit of both, with surprises waiting just beneath the surface.

Keep nurturing your roots, dusting off your tools, and trusting the process. Slow and steady, life’s race is won—not by speed, but by the quiet promise of what’s yet to come.

Look at what I just discovered today!  My dormant birch logs yielded treasures in the making!