I mentioned in another post that the cold spring we’ve had in the Midwest has greatly delayed my garden. I’ve had to make peace with that fact, more than once! This is my backyard garden’s fifth season, and never have I watched it so closely, for signs of life.
Freeze warnings and temps that dipped into the low 20s continues to plague us this month. I lost plants that I potted, even though I had them on a protected, covered front porch. Perennials that bravely pushed through the mulch, expecting spring, got bitten by the frost and disappeared. My garden has remained empty long past what I considered normal, and I had to release, over and over, a tendency to fret about it.
It didn’t help that on Facebook I was getting notifications about previous posts. Those photos of the garden, in my Memories Feed, reminded me just how far behind my garden really was. It wasn’t my imagination. Plants, flowers and herbs were lagging weeks behind.
April 2016.
April 2018.
Finally, we have the promise of a gorgeous, and warm, weekend ahead. I spent time in the garden this afternoon, pulling the weeds that are popping up, and welcoming that task because at least the earth is stirring. I noted what I have lost: one clematis vine, that did not return after a cold snap, and I have a large bare patch in the border garden that should be full of primroses. A few more minuscule plants are peeking at the sky. I know I can replant that section if I need to.
Signs of life are present though and I am grateful. The herbal garden is filling in. The mint I thought I had lost is reappearing, its tiny leaves fragrant when I brush them with my fingers. Perennials are slowly pushing through the ground, a fraction of their usual size this time of year, but they are alive. The containers are all still empty, but I believe it is safe to plant in them again.
As it always does, the garden teaches me about life. I’ve learned this season about trust and acceptance. The garden is what it is. It changes every year, and this year is no exception, even if I don’t particularly like the changes. I must accept the reality of what is.
I’ve learned to believe more deeply in the unseen. It was tempting, more than once, to dig up a plant to see if the roots had survived the cold. How counterproductive that would have been! There was life beneath the surface, and things happening that I could not see. I learned patience watching a garden that did not appear to be doing anything.
I learned about loss. A few plants did not survive. The majority did, however, and I practiced more acceptance and gratitude as I puttered in the garden this afternoon, observing the changes that have occurred in the last few days. All of these lessons apply to life. Part of my journey the last few years has been learning acceptance, patience and trust, and expressing genuine gratitude.
And I can compare the life sustaining work going on in the plants, beneath the surface and out of sight, with my body’s healing process. Although I have many visible signs of improved health, the deepest healing is happening at a cellular level. As health is restored there, it manifests outwardly. I love the mystery of that process of rebirth, in my body and in my garden.
Tomorrow I am buying annuals to fill containers and veggies for the raised bed garden. I’ll purchase a few new herbs. Before planting more perennials, I’ll continue to watch the bare places, for signs of life there.
All is well, my garden assures me. All is well, my soul agrees.
