Another Darn Patience Lesson

When we moved in, my garden looked nothing like this. Years and years ago it contained one of every imaginable plant and tree. Five years later we removed the trees that ran down the middle of the lawn, a play set was erected for the boys, a boat full of sand was put in, forts were built, dogs dug, vegetables grew. Just before we got rid of the play set, the swings were taken down and it was covered with flowing white paper and flowers, and it became the stage for a wedding. After the kids moved out, I created my idea of an English garden with masses of day lilies, perennials, annuals, color every season. Whoosh. Years in a paragraph.

My beautiful garden became my refuge from the world, and I loved keeping it looking like something out of House Beautiful magazine. Years passed. A knee replacement. A cranky body. Annuals were replaced with bushes with interesting colors and structure. No more kneeling to cultivate and deadhead. And so it goes.

This isn't the blog I intended to write about my garden. Some of the pictures would't print or didn't allow me to continue to write after printing. I'm learning how to do this and trying really really really hard to be patient with myself. Gardens teach us about patience, don't they. And about life and death. And about the need to pay attention. One year I missed the wisteria growing down through the slatted roof of this garden room, a room with windows and walls you can walk through, because I didn't look at the right time.

Baruch ata adonai...this isn't the blog I intended to write. Today I need to be satisfied with who I am rather than who I want to be or who I very well might be tomorrow. There was a time a didn't know how to put in even one picture. Today I put in two.  If I wait to become perfect before I show my beautiful blooms, chances are I won't bloom at all. Thank you for helping me to be brave. Amen