All,
I am THRILLED to be putting up this guest post by my long time and dear friend, Mary Simpson. She and I have been kindred spirits since the moment we met. The other day, we were having one of our famous and somewhat frequent "figuring out the meaning of life" conversations when she started to really tell me about this garden of hers. Her insights comparing her journey and this garden struck me as so poignant that I had to ask her to do me the honor of writing a guest post for my blog.
Enjoy... (I know I did!)
E
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A couple of months ago, I started a garden. The idea came to me simple enough. It was something I always wanted to do and would mention it to my roommate occasionally, but it wasn’t something that I jumped right into. I’d always thought of myself as a person who really loves plants but could never do it. I didn’t have a green thumb. The one plant I had when I was 18 years old died when I went out of town and didn’t ask anyone to water it. That was enough for me to believe for the next 17 years that I just did not have what it takes. So, I would admire people who could and somehow see them as slightly better than me. They could help something grow, they could start from scratch. I could not. That is when it hit me- I’ve never started from scratch before- so how do I know? That thought gave me momentum, and finally my roommate and I hit Lowes for a self taught lesson in horticulture 101.
We planted our seedlings in the kitchen. They had to stay in their little containers for a good few weeks before we could do any transplanting. I remember feeling such excitement just laying the seeds in the soil. I sent them love, welcomed them to our home and told them to hurry up and grow. I even marked the day we planted the seeds on our calendar in the kitchen. I was like a new mother. The first day I noticed the sprouts, I did the dance of joy. I even broke out into Broadway songs – partially because I heard plants like music and partially because I like to break out into Broadway songs. I was so proud, I could not see straight. I had begun to do something that I never thought I could do.
In the meantime, I had also purchased Dolores Van Cartier, our wonderful peace lily, and our spices (basil, thyme and fennel) who have become part of the family. By the time I transplanted the sprouts to the back yard, I had a newfound confidence about myself. Our excitement was contagious because friends were buying plants of their own.
After transplanting the sprouts, things began to change. They were flourishing inside of the house, but not all of them took the outside as well. I began to worry a little and could feel a small fracture in my confidence. But, enough plants were thriving that I accepted that the ones who did not make it did what they could. Soon, we decided to move the plants to their permanent homes in our backyard. More in direct sunlight. Just like when I transplanted them the first time, there were some plants who could not survive the move. Watching the plants, I began to get introspective and realized how much tending a garden is like tending yourself. I needed to be aware of what made each plant both thrive and suffer. There were times that I would be hard on the plants because they weren’t growing as fast as how I wanted to grow. The spices and Dolores were thriving inside the house with minimal attention from me and I began to compare them to the outside plants. Incidentally at the same time, I was dealing with my own issues. I had fallen into a surprising slump after a high and was picking on myself for slipping up when I had been doing so well.
Of course, I continued to take care of the plants everyday. All of my plants-inside and out. I would water, encourage them and wait. Simultaneously, I would work on my own mending. It finally hit me that sometimes, you’re going to find growth where you don’t expect it. Sometimes you’re going to focus on the parts that need growth and they just don’t seem to be getting anywhere. No matter what- you have to keep watering. You have to keep giving love. You have to keep believing the growth happens even when you can’t see it. Sooner or later, if you just keep going, you’re going to wake up and find you have a real garden.
That’s what I have now. A real garden. I have proof that I can grow, I can give life. Yes, there are days when there are mushrooms and bugs in my garden (literally and figuratively) that put me off and make me frustrated. There are times when I have the thought that everything (meaning I) could be a little better- can be a little more. But then, I take a step back and realize they were all just seeds when we started. We were starting from scratch. And we’ve come a long way, baby.
