“All gardeners live in beautiful places because they make them so.”
– Joseph Joubert
Some days it feels like weeds are overtaking my life. Those dreary March and April days spent looking out my window made me ache to smush my hands in the dirt, prune back the overgrown branches, and clear out winter’s accumulated debris. It’s not very beautiful out there.
Now that the sun is shining and I’ve had a few solid weekends in the garden, I’m questioning my eagerness. Everywhere I go, I encounter weeds. The unwanted stuff, the clutter, the dead relationships and outgrown friendships bog up my mind and consume my free space. It’s not very beautiful in here.
They creep up next to the stepping stone, through the sprinkler heads, and crowd my lavender bushes. They sneak next to the day lilies, snake their way up the Japanese maple’s tender stems, and root themselves firmly and cleverly amidst the heirloom roses. They consume my free time, crowd my in box and rest on empty spaces.
Depending on my mood, I pull, or dig, or bust out the sprays when I just can’t get a handle on them. Some days I carefully unwind them, desperate to leave the host unharmed. Other days, lack of patience gets the best of me, and I curse and yank, decimating both simultaneously.
As I’m down on my knees, I occasionally upend an earthworm and send him wiggling back into the soil, or startle a mourning dove feasting on scattered seed. Sometimes I unearth a new bloom, resilient from the winter’s frost. Or an abandoned baseball, leather long gone. Sometimes I close my eyes and breathe in and out, searching for an answer.
Plowing through the weeds gives me time to think, to meditate, to wonder about what might emerge next. I strategize, sensitize, and surrender to what is yet to come. Sometimes I just sink.
Pushing through winter’s debris to uncover, to create some breathing room, I sense an opening, a space for clarity. I see progress, I sense some control. I inhale, exhale, and look around me. Blooms, new growth, and possibility are in sight.
Just for today, a little bit of beauty, made by me.
Jennifer Wolfe
Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.
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