Higher Ground

I have so many lovely places in my garden to sit and get a new perspective. My favorite is a patio my husband built on the highest ground, with a view of the valley. I’m level with the treetops so I feel like I’m tucked in a treehouse.

But I’m too busy to enjoy any of these perches.

Why? Because I can’t walk by a weed without pulling it, a drooping plant without watering it, a disappointing perennial bed without re-designing it, or a wilting plant without inspecting it for aphids. There’s always something to do.

So out of the mouth of the non-gardener, my husband, the oracle of higher ground, comes this: “Stop re-designing, plucking and righting, and start enjoying.”

Come again?

You can tell he’s not a gardener because he can walk right by a weed without even pulling it. Shocking, isn’t it?

And yet, I know he’s right. I need to fill up my tank with joy so I have vast reserves for the journey ahead. Because some days you need to draw on those reserves, and you don’t want to find the tank empty.

Given all the things that happen in my garden, why have I not stopped to enjoy them?

My grandmother knew how to do this. My mother does this daily. They know how to sit and listen and learn and just watch ants at work. We were taught to take in all the joy around us. The world right outside our back door. Full of mystery, intrigue and even live bait for a late-in-the-day fishing trip.

I had better scrap the “to do” list and get serious about joy.

Joy is on an installment plan, and I need an installment every day. This may be the hardest thing I have to learn.

May I extend to myself the tenderness I feel towards all the teeming life in the garden. And may you, too.

We’re going to need joy for the journey.