Where The Good Things Grow

I'm back in the dirt again.

I've been spending days poking through my flower pots and visiting nearly every greenhouse in the city.  Going once, going back again.  Deciding I was "finished" and then going back for just one more because apparently I wasn't as finished as I thought I was.

I'm not even sure if I wanted to be finished - this creative processing of dreaming and planning and scheming and aiming for all things beautiful - it just can't be rushed, you know?!!



This structure happened this year - my Mother's Day gift!

I don't know what to call it. 

• gazebo
• she shed
• arbor
• hut

For now, I seem to be in the habit of calling it "this thing".  If you have any creative ideas on that, I'm all ears.

I have a feeling that I'm a little bit weird.

Ahem.  <awkward silence from the readers>

I know there are some serious gardeners out there with a wickedly amazing eye for pots and flower beds and stunning blooms.

Me - I wanted this "thing" filled with antique and vintage "things", with a cacophony of blossoms stuck in old milk pails and crockery.

And this to be hung on the back wall.
Thanks to S.L. for helping me! 

The other day I had this strong feeling that I should just get it over with and apologize to my beloved family for my weirdness.  To apologize for talking gardening and flowers for months - and then producing "this thing" filled with weird and crazy stuff.  Why can't I be normal like all the other wives and mothers?  

I can't explain.

I just am who I am and my garden and yard reflects that side of me - the side that's drawn to nostalgia and the messy-beautiful and haven't we talked about this before?

I'd be kidding myself to ever think that structured and neat and tidy and predictable is my thing.  It's just not, in any part of my life.  

However, maybe I'm not the only one drawn to follow their own whims in the garden:  

"In his garden, every man may be 

his own artist 

without apology or explanation."

  Louise Beebe Wilder

I take great assurance from this quote!  Free to be me!  ;)

Here's another quote I like:

"Almost any garden,

if you see it at 

just the right moment

can be confused with paradise."

@twowomenandahoe.com

Isn't it true?!
My apple tree in full bloom one beautiful evening at sunset.

If I'm really being honest, though, this represents my feelings about my gardening attempts better than anything else I can verbalize:

People assume that I love gardening and that I find it fun.

I do.

And sometimes I don't.

It's a lot of work.

Mostly, what feeds my soul the most.....

.....is the time that it gives me to 

feed my soul.  

I do all this plotting and scheming and running around to greenhouses and buying the right seeds and checking all the boxes of things I want and need for this year's garden and nearly (nearly???) wear myself thin doing it all.

And then I get my hands in the dirt.

The flowers get placed in their pots and I have expectations that they're going to grow and bring me beauty.

The seeds get placed in the garden dirt and I have expectations that they're going to produce and feed me and my family.

But most of all.

Most of all.

I spend time by myself outside, knees on the ground.  Birds singing love songs to me.  Earthworms occasionally taking me by surprise but we co-exist on friendly terms.

But there - on my knees - I have time to think.  De-stress.  PRAY.

Winter seasons are long - literally and figuratively.

Spring comes and I'm in desperate need of hope.

And so,

knees to the ground 

earth meets skin 

sun warms the face

My prayers reach His ears.

It's there that I can pour myself out in the 

solitude and quiet 

of the most 

down to earth spot I know.

I'm needy.  I'm sad.  I'm broken.  I'm hopeful.  I'm wishful.  I'm anticipating.  I'm contemplating.  I'm confused.  I'm tired.  I'm dreaming.

There, my friends, on my bended knee, is exactly

where the good things grow.