A garden is like a microcosm of the world. Seeds are germinated and grow to fruition. Then after a time, once their season of growth is past, they fade away and die.
I sit in my wicker chair and watch the stages come and go every year.
Knowing I carefully arranged the plants and pushed the seeds down into the soil just so.
And then I wait.
Every day I walk around the perimeter of each little garden spot on my patio and look for signs of progress.
I am elated when I see signs that, yes, the plants are coming up.
Tiny at first, barely discernible. But there just the same, ready to lean up toward the sun to guide them.
There’s simply nothing else like it. The creating and tending of a garden.
How many problems have I worked out while tending my gardens? Plans I made as I pulled the weeds and snipped the spent flowers?
I’ve created gardens and had to say goodbye to them. I think about those gardens sometimes.
I never knew that I would be leaving them for someone else to enjoy.
But I hope they did. I hope they looked at my little patches of ground and thought to themselves: Someone loved this garden.
For some reason it’s important to me that they realized that.
And so wherever I go I grow more gardens. Tenderly care for them.
Watch the flowers bloom and the butterflies and bees fly from flower to flower. I listen to the birds singing up in the trees.
And I always feel pride that I merely did what gardeners always do.
Plant the seeds and watch them grow.
“The love of gardening is a seed once sown that never dies.” – Gertrude Jekyll