I woke up last week with the realization that I had less than three months until hundreds of visitors will stream through my garden. Since that wake up call, I’ve seen the garden through the singular lens of what needs to be done before June 21.
The list seems endless and paints my garden with the broad strokes of what it needs to be, rather than what it offers in the present.
While there is no denying that the next eleven weeks will require an enormous amount of effort and dedication, I cannot forget to enjoy the beginning of the new season. As I pulled in the driveway tonight after my son’s baseball practice, the evening’s light was starting to disappear behind the silhouetted rooflines of the neighborhood.
The diminutive crocus that have been blooming for about a week in the driveway border caught my eye. Just the other day, I raked leaves from around them, trying not to rip their tender petals to shreds. My inner taskmaster ignored their beauty, instead frustrated with how they slowed my progress in removing winter’s debris.
Tonight, though, a pair of crocus remind me that my singular focus is misguided. My effort must be coupled with appreciation. The garden will continue to grow around me as I work, creating stories to chronicle and moments to capture.
This cool evening belongs to appreciation — a few moments to browse, not checking off tasks or finding fault, but rather seeing, listening, and feeling the garden as she slowly rises from hibernation. She reminds me with simple elegance why I put countless hours into her creation.
I breathe in the message of my muse.
“Work with me, not in spite of me. Embrace me for what I am, without fear or judgement. We will welcome them together.”