In the comics, yesterday, Mutts, had a strip about plants…light and sunshine, water and space, all that was needed to grow new life. I can relate.
When I moved into my tiny house, there was a wild, overgrown area out back. I moved in with a broken right wrist, and that impeded me from doing yard work for some weeks. So it was about mid-June when I began to pull up masses of ivy that crawled up trees and crept across the dirt. I was flabbergasted when I found that I had a double raised area outlined with granite curbing blocks. Finding those blocks was like finding a treasure. I actually gasped. They were beautiful!
Cleaning that area up was quite the job, especially with a wrist that was braced and weak. I purchased two different types of clippers and two different types of saws. I hacked and sawed ivy as thick as my thumb. I pulled until I fell backward, and I got that stuff cleared out. When I was through, I discovered that I had a weeping cherry tree, a redbud nearly choked by the ivy, a hackberry tree with ridges of flat bark, and a lot of unidentified plants. I found several mahonia that look like holly but more symmetrical, with strings of blue berries. I had acuba, also called gold-dust plants, which I could cut and bring in to place in water for fresh arrangements. And I had two tiny, smothered azaleas and some twigs that had peony-type leaves.
This season, the back natural area has been part of my “curb appeal” project, and it has become a living metaphor of my last years, as my dear Lake friend pointed out. I find that I am very much like this natural area in my yard. I was neglected and ignored. I was covered with debris. I was nearly choked out of existence. And then with changes in circumstance, I was uncovered, swept clean, nurtured, cared for, attended, and surprise of surprises, I am blooming and thriving!
I just needed what all living things do…sun, water, nutrition, time, and space. The sunshine, water and nutrition came from God and from my family and friends. I gave myself the time and space. What a difference a year has made…for my garden and for myself. We both are a delightful agony, and well-worth the effort and pain.