I’ve become quite the gardener over the past few years.
Year One: I wondered if the tiny green things sprouting were weeds or flowers. The Daylilies my mom planted in my beginner garden withered away within a few weeks. Did they need to be watered or something?
Year Two: I was bold enough to ask my mom for a few more perennials and determined not to kill them. I even planted Hostas along an empty garden bed and watched with delight as their tiny white and purple flowers bloomed.
Year Three: I accelerated to the advanced gardener level as I rearranged perennials, planted annuals and bought three potted plants. I churned the soil and added compost. I headed into the summer, confident that I would receive a “beautification” nomination like my neighbors across the street.
On July 16th, 2012, I relinquished my vain sense of control over these twenty square feet and repeated “I’m not worthy” at Mother Nature’s feet. While the experience outlined above clearly indicates I should be on HGTV, a measly hose head cannot compete with severe drought conditions.
I decided to give up on my garden. In doing so, I hope you will give yourself and others permission to do the same. After making an earnest attempt with any hobby, job, or living situation, more powerful forces (i.e. nature, the universe, love) will lead you in another direction. This is not failure. This is life.
My sister has already read this blog post, chopped down her peonies, and reallocated her gardening time to another activity. Anyone else one step behind her?