How does my garden grow? A valid question considering I have not had trowel or shovel in hand since the end of April when we first did our post winter once over on the beds. No excuses …life has been busy and like a miser, hours have been hoarded and conserved for the playbook of tasks that comprises our life these days.
I’ve been self centered of late, totally immersed in the pursuit of my own stuff, and you know what? It feels unnatural and a little odd. Odd - but necessary for now.
As I stood at my kitchen sink, coffee cup in hand, gazing across our pool to the garden (that sounded pretentious!) it struck me how lush and full the garden looked. There were parties of pink annuals that had resurrected themselves and the towering gangs of daisies seemed ready to take the stage. While I had had my head down (gazing at my navel), the perennials had blossomed with wild abandon under my gross neglect. They thrived.
It made me wonder if that same outcome could be applied to parenting. We tend to convince ourselves that they need our undying support and nurturing to help shape, protect and guide them. They need us … they really do. The day comes when they slip from our gaze, lingering only in our peripheral vision, and for one reason or another, life gets in the way or delivers a reason for us to loosen the grip. Our needy little chickadees find themselves alone in the nest, left to their own devices. They test their courage; they fend for themselves. They learn to use the toaster oven or the concept of a vegetable peeler. They experiment with the advice that has been so generously bestowed upon them … choosing to ignore as much as adhere.
And you know what? One day you stand at the sink, coffee cup in hand, gazing out the window at your not-so-little child, and it hits you. While your head has been turned she has blossomed into a strong, vibrant, woman full of wild abandon and possibility. She thrives.
How does my garden grow? I really have no idea, but it is nothing short of miraculous.