What My Garden Has Taught Me About How to Live
Okay, picture this. It is an early morning in October. I’m standing in my former garden in my robe and slippers, coffee in hand, (which is nothing new by the way) not a lick of makeup, staring at my hydrangeas and feeling moderately guilty about them. Everyone else deadheaded theirs weeks ago. I’d fully intended to. Life, got in the way, and now here they were: blossoms faded from their summer pink to this papery, “parchmenty”, dusty rose. With the morning light hitting them just right they looked like something out of a fall garden magazine spread that I absolutely did not plan and could not take credit for. I thought hmmm…I almost cut those.
Standing in a robe having an accidental revelation is basically a summary of what my garden has taught me about my life. The garden life lessons I’ve picked up over the years didn’t arrive in any organized fashion. They showed up the way the best things usually do: out of the blue, unannounced, while I was doing something else entirely. If you are a gardener you know what I mean. The garden will school you on aging gracefully, on patience, on beauty, and what actually matters if you let it.
Beauty Has a Season and So Do We
Nothing in a garden blooms forever, and the garden isn’t stressed about this. The daffodils in my current garden bloom for two amazing weeks in May. The show ends. They drop their petals and then they’re simply done until next year. The dahlias don’t even bother showing up until late summer, when everything else is winding down, and they arrive completely unbothered by their own timing. No apologies and no explanatio. Here I am, fabulous, deal with it. A lesson we can all benefit from.
This is where gardening and aging gracefully relate to one other. Here’s what I’ve learned: the October garden isn’t a failed June garden. It’s a completely different one , quieter, more golden, full of seed heads and ornamental grasses and things that catch the afternoon light in a way June couldn’t possibly accomplish. Not lesser, but different. And, once you actually slow down to look at it, maybe even more interesting. Are you getting my drift? I was in my 50s when I started genuinely making peace with the idea that I wasn’t trying to claw my way back to a previous season. I was in a new one. That shift from chasing June to actually appreciating October, changed more than just how I felt about my garden, but how I felt about myself.
Patience Isn’t Passive, Trust What Is Working
I used to think patience meant sitting on your hands and suffering through the waiting. Here’s what patience and gardening actually look like: you plant bulbs in November. It’s cold and nothing is happening and the garden looks like a patch of bare dirt with delusions of grandeur. And then one morning in March you walk out and there are green tips pushing up through the soil and you feel unreasonably triumphant about something you had almost nothing to do with. That’s not passive waiting. That’s active, trusting, keep-showing-up patience., a very different animal.
Mindful gardening, (yes, I’m using that phrase) has done more for my ability to slow down than anything else in my life. Admiring a new bloom., and noticing which direction a vine decided to go. Sitting with the genuine uncertainty of whether that bare-root rose is going to pull through. You can’t rush any of it. Eventually, you stop trying.
My husband would be the first to tell you I am not a naturally patient person.The garden has been quietly working on me for years. He does much of the gardening now, but I long to get back to it. The slowing down that happens in the garden bleeds into everything else, and before you know it you’re actually sitting still at a dinner table without checking your phone to see if anyone gave a hoot about your latest post that you spent hours on. Seasonal living, it turns out, is less a philosophy you adopt and more a habit you build. The garden is just a very good place to practice it.
Resilience Doesn’t Mean Nothing Ever Dies.
When we moved here In a spring after a hard freeze, I walked out to find my tomatoes completely dead. Not dormant. Not ‘resting.’ Gone. I stood there in my slippers feeling something that was, if I’m honest, depressing, which probably tells you as much about me as it does about the tomatoes. But here’s what I know now: resilience in the garden doesn’t mean nothing dies. It means the garden keeps going. More importantly, it means you keep going.
I’ve made basically every gardening mistake that exists. Planted things in the wrong spot. Chosen plants that were absolutely gorgeous at the nursery and completely wrong for my microclimate. Lost beds to drought. Watched aphids treat my roses like a luxury all-inclusive resort with full room service. And every single time, something got figured out. Sometimes the solution was genuinely better than what was lost.
Those tomatoes were replaced with better heirloom varieties that were hearty and delicious I never would have found those varieties if the freeze hadn’t cleared the space. The garden knew what it was doing. I did not (lesson learned). Resilience doesn’t mean nothing dies. It means you keep going and sometimes what comes next is better than what you lost. This is one of those life lessons from nature that hits differently the older you get. Not because loss gets easier, but because you’ve accumulated enough evidence by now to trust that you can figure things out. You always have. The garden just keeps reminding you of your own track record.
You Cannot Bully Things Into Working on Your Timeline
In our former garden, I tried to force my wisteria to bloom. We fertilized it per what the experts suggested. I pruned it according to three different books that contradicted each other completely. I had what I can only describe as several firm conversations with it. In return, it gave me the most exuberant, lush, frankly show-offy foliage you have ever seen and not a single flower. Year four: it bloomed so exhuberantly that it required constant pruning.
What changed? Nothing I did. The wisteria was ready when the wisteria was ready. It turns out wisteria performs at its best if you basically ignore it.I think about that wisteria more than is probably healthy. Because there are things in life , a blog post that finds its footing, friendships deepening at their own pace, the specific kind of confidence that only shows up after a long stretch of doubt, “that simply cannot be forced into bloom”. They can be tended and watered if they are given the right conditions. But the timeline is not mine or yours but theirs.
Gardening for wellbeing, I’ve decided, is really about learning simply to prepare the ground, show up consistently, and then, this is the hard part if you’re a person who likes to be in charge of things, get out of the way.
Imperfect Gardens Are Usually the Most Interesting Ones
My current garden is not a magazine garden. My former garden had possibilities, this one not so much, but I am okay with that. There are gaps I haven’t solved yet. There are plants that have wandered cheerfully out of their designated spots and are currently doing whatever they please, and honestly they almost look better that way. I used to be a little embarrassed about the imperfections. Now I think they’re half the point.
(These beautiful garden arches are built by my brother in law-you can find them in his Etsy shop here)
The Japanese concept of wabi sabi that finds beauty in the imperfect, the impermanent, the unfinished. The moss on your patio pavers, and the plant that spills past its edges in a way that looks accidentally perfect. Every real garden has this quality if you stop trying to edit it out. Every real person does too.
There is beauty in the imperfect in your home, your garden, your life. It takes more confidence than chasing perfection. You have to trust what you’re looking at rather than comparing it to a standard someone else set.
I’ve made my peace with this in the garden, and I’m trying to work on it everywhere else. I had a chemical peel the other day and one reader commented that I still had deep wrinkles (in spite of a lower face lift several years ago) The lines on my face are from decades of baking in the son, working in the garden, from laughing too hard, and frankly enjoying life. My hands are a gardener’s hands and I’m okay with that. That’s wabi-sabi. That’s the real garden design inspiration, if you ask me: figuring out what’s beautiful about the actual thing in front of you, not the idealized version of it.
Tend What Actually Thrives. Let the Rest Go.
I spotted some Meyer lemon trees in a walled garden similar to mine in my neighborhood the other day. Their trees were twice the size and much healthier looking than mine. Same trees, different garden. But here’s the thing, they live on the hill where they get more air movement than I. They may be more consistent about fertilizing. What they tend grows, in their particular conditions, in their particular way. What I tend grows in mine. My lemon trees are in pots in a closed courtyard that gets very little air movement.
Gardening over 60 has a clarifying quality I wasn’t expecting. You get honest, in a way that’s harder when you’re younger, about which plants are actually worth the effort and which ones you’ve been dragging along . You stop apologizing for the fact that your garden occasionally looks a bit untended. You lean into what works. This applies to basically everything.
Time, energy, attention, and care all need to be considered. The older I get, the more intentional I want to be about where mine go. This isn’t selfishness. It’s just good garden sense. Pour the good stuff into what genuinely thrives under your specific conditions. The rest, as my aunt Dodo used to say, will sort itself out.
The Garden Has No Interest Whatsoever in Your Anxiety About the Future
The plants in my garden are not worried about last year’s drought or this years future.. They’re not lying awake at 2am mentally rehearsing all the ways the seasons could go wrong. They are doing, right now, exactly what this moment calls for: reaching toward available light, drawing up whatever water is in the soil, unfurling a new leaf while a woman in a robe stands there with her coffee finally paying attention.
Living in the moment is one of those phrases that’s been repeated so many times it’s basically lost all its meaning. In a garden, it makes sense. Everything is happening now. The plant that’s blooming is blooming now. The one that’s going dormant is going dormant now. Seasonal living, means understanding that this exact light, this exact temperature, this exact combination of what’s blooming and what’s fading will never happen again precisely this way. Not next week or ever which I love.
I don’t think there’s a better cure for anxiety about aging than regular time in a garden. Not because the garden denies that change is happening, it is the definition of constant change. It shows you, over and over what a trustworthy and fabulous thing change can be. Every season ends. Every season gives way to something worth showing up for. In your garden and life embrace change.
Garden Party Outfits of the Week
I went shopping with my friend Wren and picked this dress up on sale at BR only in black eyelet. Unfortunately that one is sold out. I like it so much I may order this one in white. I purchased a small. Love this bag from BR (not on sale), these sandals from Everlane, and this fabulous hat from Imogene and Willy. I am ordering it for myself.
Shop Garden Party Outfit
This dress is from Boden. Wouldn’t it be lovely for a garden wedding dressed up with a block heel and different accessories?
Shop Garden Party Outfit
Garden Fresh Pea Salad
Fresh Pea, Radish and Goat Cheese Salad
Ingredients
- 1 pound 4 cups fresh or frozen peas
- ▢1 1/2 teaspoons Kosher salt
- ▢4 tablespoons olive oil
- ▢1/4 to 1/2 sliced red onion about 1/4 small onion
- ▢1/4 teaspoon Aleppo pepper
- ▢2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
- ▢3-4 radishes thinly sliced
- ▢1/4 cup packed cup mint leaves chopped
- ▢1/4 cup chopped chives
- ▢3 oz goat cheese crumbled
- 3 or 4 slices turkey bacon chopped
Notes
- Make the Dressing: Combine the olive oil aleppo pepper and vinegar and set aside
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Boil the peas: Bring a small pot of water to a boil. Add 1 1/2 teaspoons of salt, and add the peas. Cook for about 5 minutes until the peas are bright green and still have a little bite to them. You don’t want mushy, wrinkled, army green peas. You want bright green, firm but tender peas.
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Drain the peas: Shut off the heat and drain the peas.
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Brown the Bacon: In a medium skillet or microwave brown the bacon.Stir Remove from heat and cool. Add the sliced radishes, onion and drained peas. Fold in the fresh mint and chives. Crumble goat cheese over the peas. Taste. Add more salt or pepper to your liking.
This s was a bit long for a Sunday post. I got carried away with my garden thoughts! What has your garden taught you? Please share in the comments. These conversations are the best part of this blog, You all never fail to surprise me.
If you missed any of my Sunday favorites and would like to catch up you can do so here. Don’t forget to pop over and visit Annie and Mary Ann for more Sunday fun.
Cindy—what a masterful way you have of comparing aging to gardening. They are in fact quite similar processes. We must learn to embrace the changes in US the way we anticipate the beautiful seasons our gardens have in store for us if we just quietly and gratefully receive those changes. What a beautiful post!
Hi Carol
Quietly and gratefully-I love that!!
I just loved this touching and thoughtful post. (Had a little trouble having it all come through – but so worth the wait!). Great insight and a beautiful read. Always a treat to see your spectacular gardens!
Hi Barb
It was a bit lengthy! I apologize for that, but I am so glad you enjoyed it.
I am a tad late reading this Cindy, but I have had the opportunity to savour your excellent writing. Thank you for this. Appreciate the gift you have with thoughts and words. I am now 75+ with a tiny east facing front garden that has a variety of foundation shrubs, and room for me to add my creative touch. The back patio , covered , faces west and gives me ample opportunity to have pots and baskets and a place to read beside a fountain. Meagre gardening areas, but just what I now need , after successfully gardening from small spaces to larger as my age also increased! Dealing with a two new homes and gardens when my time was so stretched by family needs, then the vagaries of a Calgary AB garden where the Chinooks blowing east from the Rockies could confuse the plants with huge temperature fluctuations as well as summer hail storms , which could slice and dice a hosta bed in 15 minutes. My best achievement was a private back retreat and a show stopper of a front garden here on Vancouver Island these past 10 years. Unfortunately little sense of peace you so aptly describe , due to a lack of help with the heavy lifting required. And a body that ached from the time it took. I now have the right sized spaces that give me the peace and joy I need…and time to reflect on the seasons .
Hi Cath
Our next move will be to something simpler and smaller. We still enjoy our garden, but I know the time will come when it is too much. My former garden became that way. This garden is simpler but I am sure in the next few years we will consider something smaller.
Cindy, hopefully not downsizing in your future to be quite so small as I have! In the front there’s a small east facing garden , just the width of my living room bay window with shrubs that I keep trimmed and which add seasonal colour. Pots of rabbit proof bulbs now , and later hanging baskets. In the rear, I have a covered west facing patio with over flowing pots, ferns, a Japanese maple and raised planters , currently filled with bulbs, but will be planted in May with annuals . Deer ate all purple petunias in one night. Must have read how good and stylish purple is! But suits me just fine.
What a wonderful post, a balm for my frenzied mind as my husband battles both illness and cognitive decline. I’m trying to focus on the present and not plan too much into this changing future. Much like your bulbs…surely something positive and wonderful will pop up in time.
My heart goes out to you Susan. You are dealing with difficult times…
Such beautiful thoughts on gardening and life. This is something you couldn’t have written at 30, 40, or even 50. That is my favorite thing about growing older (I’m 71). I’ve given up on perfection, because imperfect is much more interesting and beautiful! Thank you for reminding us of what’s important.
Hi Becky
We are the same age. I was never a perfectionist, it is not in my DNA. However I do not measure myself against anyone at this age. Am I happy with everything of course not! I do now have the confidence and wisdom to deal with it however!
Hi Cindy,
This blog had to take you forever to create, and I’m so grateful to you for sharing all your intimate thoughts pertaining to your garden and the lessons you have gained from being patient and trying to just “go with the flow” “and chill.” Easier said than done. My husband, Barry is a Master Gardener,” and since we have been retired for a good number of years we down sized to just one home insead of two and purchased a home with a small lot by design. Living in Phoenix, AZ is not an easy place to garden. I have watched the plants not make it, not because the zone was wrong and the lack of sunlight the plant was getting because of the big shaded tree, or the heat just killed the plant, BUT it was supposed to be tolerated. All the roses that have to have “sail shades” on the tops and sides so our oppresive heat does not take them out one by one. I’m in charge of pretty, I RESPECT and admire YOU and your hubs for all you do in your garden and my Bear. It takes a ton of PATIENCE, research, and on going knowledge. Then global warming.
I so enjoyed this blog, I give a hoot how time consuming this blog had to take you forever and ever.
YOU are special.
Hi Katherine
Yes this post was a bit of a project,but one I enjoyed creating. I am in the process of trying to weave the categories and topics that I cover together so they make more sense. I don’t want to change what I cover but I want it to be more coherent. Phoenix has to be a gardening challenge. My Chualar garden’s Mediterannean climate was nearly ideal for growing. This one a bit more of a challenge due to the heat.
Oh Cindy. I just loved this blog. I also find myself out in the morning in my bathrobe and coffee removing yellow leaves and spent blooms. In fact before I can brew my coffee and pour the water that was left over from yesterdays coffee and pout it into my littlebird bath. I find that just going out to look at my plants lowers whatever stress I have. It’s like n anti anxiety pill. Th mear fact of tking care of my plants. I loved your whole essay it really touched me and made me thing. Thank you. You also are a beautiful landscaper. Everything you touch is beauty!!!!
Hi Sandra
I love early morning in the garden. It is the best time!!
Just love this post!
I love the gardening analogy, especially since I just turned 70 recently, and have been
doing a lot of soul searching.
I also like to garden, and after many years of fighting an uphill battle trying to get things I love
to grow under Black Walnut trees (not mine) bordering three sides of my property, I’m making peace
with the few things that will grow there. Let’s hear it for Burning Bushes, Hostas and container
gardening, lol!
Hi Gayle
I have made peace with my limitations here as well. Change is always good for the soul.
Absolutely beautiful post.
And you told me once, you didn’t write very well….not true!!!
I am not a good natural writer. I can do it on occasion but it doesn’t come easily!
Fantastic post on gardening, embracing change, revelling in this moment. Thank you!!
Hi Kat
I am so glad you enjoyed it!
long time reader, first time commenter. Thank you for these lovely reflections.
Hi Andrea
Thank you so much for joining the conversation!
Oh Cindy This was so beautifully said. Thank you so much.
Hi Lee
You are welcome. I need to write more about the garden and how it relates to life.
Cindy I have loved your gardens. In fact, that’s how I found your blog. I fell in love with the photos of your garden. I lived in S. Cal for 3 wonderful years and I did not garden while I lived there. My husband and I were too busy traveling around the state and having fun. We now live in central Texas and I’ve gotten back to gardening but TX bugs are epic! But I continue gardening because it brings me such joy. Thanks for the great post.
Hi Roberta
Great to hear from you again. My dad had a home in Texas for many years. I do remember those bugs!
Cindy, the 5 stars is for the post. I LOVE IT and all of your gardens. Peas I don’t like.
Hi Elizabeth
I grew up hating peas in the midwest where they cooked them to death (back in the day) I love them is they are fresh from the garden and barely cooked!
What a beautiful essay and such a valuable analogy. I’m sure I will read it again. Gardening has taught me patience and the joy of looking forward to what surprises await. (There was a first plumbago bloom this morning!) However I do admit, though turning 80 in four weeks, I am still a work in progress.
Three random things come to mind …
~ First, Judith Viorst, she of the “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” renown has a newish book. She is now 95 and wrote the book at 93…”Making the Best of What’s Left: When We’re Too Old to Get the Chairs Reupholstered.” It’s a delight. I love that she refers to our life in fifths and the years past 80 as our final fifth. (Spoiler: Her doctor wrote her a prescription that said, “Reupholster the chairs.”)
~ Second, love the garden party outfits. They both fit with my newest understanding: my magic style number is two. I feel most myself when I’m only wearing two colors … maybe three if I’m being extra casual. Been testing this past week, and it’s never failed.
~ Third, one of your posts “Before and After Backyard Transformation” inspired a much needed–and wanted–remake of our back patio area. We took out the flagstone and replaced it with decomposed granite, replaced the curvy beds with straight beds covered in black mulch, planted in green and white, alternating boxwoods and brown wooden planters! The drip irrigation goes in next week. Thank you for this inspiration! It is so peaceful and will be much easier for us Final Fifth Seniors to maintain.
Susan! I had no idea Judith Viorst wrote the book at that age! Fantastic! That book was a favorite in our home when my kids were growing up. We still quote that book. It now belongs to Summer. Her mother could be moody at that age…so we always teased her about having a horrible, no good, very bad day. Thank you for telling me that. I am off to buy her other book!
It’s been said , I see, a number of times – but such a lovely post. It can put things in perspective and how that is needed now.
Thank you for a lovely, thoughtful commentary to start the day.
Hi Jill
Read Kath’s comment I think we all need to buy Judith Viorst’s book!
Hi Cindy,
I have been enjoying your blog posts for quite some time, and I must say, this is my very favourite post, and as one who enjoys gardening, my very favourite gardening post of all time!!
Hi Deborah
I am so glad you enjoyed it.
Thoughtful and thought provoking post. Thank you. Gardens are the best.
Hi didi
I cannot imagine not having a garden!
Loved reading this post about gardening as I sit with my dad by his bed. He has Parkinson’s, and at the end of his life. Thank you Cindy.
Oh Meg
I am so sorry. My favorite aunt was taken by Parkinsons as well. Big hug for you…
Thank you for this post. IMHO this is the best one you’ve ever written.
Thank you so much Cathy. It was a long one!
This was lovely! My daughter is a therapist and runs her practice from a garden and hoop house. She’s in Maine, so last week her clients were all out on snowshoes with her.
Your pea salad looks great. I make the shortcut version: cooked peas, feta, and sauteed crumbled prosciutto. Seasons are so important. Today’s joy is daffodils coming up after almost two feet of snow a week or so ago. I would encourage everyone to eat seasonally as well, at least to extent possible. I eat a lot of berries for health reasons and am enjoying the fresher tastes each week. Once local asparagus is here, it will truly be spring.
Hi Maeve
Thank you for sharing about your daughter-how wonderful!
Cindy,
What a lovely and well written post. It really resonated with me.
Hi Katie
Thank you I enjoyed writing it
Beautiful analogy Cindy! I loved it! I’m definitely in the December garden at 81 but still manage to bloom. My husband does the little gardening that we have now that we moved down off the mountain into a small retirement community. Yes, the wild life is still here. We often see dear and their hoof prints where they have easily jumped over our four foot walls on our little garden. Ours has gotten a bit wild since he has been forced to take over due to my chronic RA. Looking up at the mountains around our valley always gives me joy. Thank you Cindy for giving me such a lovely thoughtful piece to read this very cool but sunny spring morning.
Beautiful, beautiful essay…so true…..literally brought tears to my eyes
As I said my husband does most of the gardening now that he is retired. I hope to return to it when I retire!
I am so happy that you still bloom!! I think everyone here does as well!
What a lovely post, Cindy. Friendly reminders to us all about patience, kindness to self and others, reality checks, and rolling with the punches. I will save this post and return to it, often, I am sure, as I travel through my golden lucky years. Thank you for this heartfelt gift. Be well.
Hello dear Holly
You have suffered loss in recent years so I know you can relate gardening and the seasons.
So well said……we are like our gardens….changing .
Hi Eileen
I think change is a good thing
Wow!
Such a thoughtful, honest post. I have never thought about life and the seasons of a garden in such a way, but it makes sense. There are times I feel anxiety about aging, I worry about what might happen. Thinking about how the garden behaves is calming. I have a feeling I will come back to this post and read again. I appreciate you sharing your thoughts, it makes me feel we are not alone.
Thank you.
Hello. I agree with Mary Ann, my favorite post that you have ever written. Thank you for all that you do, my friend! Have a wonderful spring and summer. 👏🏻🥰😘
I agree with other comments. This is my favorite of all your wonderful posts! Pea salad and garden party dressing are the accessories but the main garment is the garden wisdom. Thank you!
Hi Cindy,
You write so beautifully loved reading this. What has my garden taught me….My garden is really the early slope of a hillside that runs wild above me, apart from a small portion which I have cultivated. My kids would grab a few provisions and climb to the top of the hill and hide behind the wild scrub and make camp. I would worry about snakes, but they assured me they would take care of each other. Ahrrr the naivety of early parenting! When I first moved here I was really into David Austin roses and planting my own vegetables, but the problem is we have deer that have established tracks further up the hill and we also have coyotes and mountain lions,gophers,racoons, rabbits. I have learnt the more tasteful gorgeous things I have in my “open” garden the more deer will come in and eat, very boldly just outside my window, so I have a careful truce now and plant accordingly. Mostly native plants and trees to attract butterflies and birds. Coyotes and mountain lions are seen closer to the houses in my neighborhood than ever before so we are all much more careful. My kids are adults now. So my garden has taught me to accept I live on the edge of wildness and to honor that, and to be ever mindful. I really love it here.
Beautifully written and what great “food for thought”. As we age, there begin to be so many challenges but, I always feel we can renew ourselves as do many plants from season to season. Thank you for a lovely written thoughtful post!
Such a thoughtful blog & I’ve read through it twice. Thank you for the pea recipe. It looks delicious & simple.
Yesterday I was excited for Spring as I saw my tulips popping out of the ground
Today woke to 12 inches of snow and more on the way!
But as you said…Mother Nature ( even in her Global Warming state)has plans of her own !
Nice post …makes me yearn for Spring !
PS thanks for endorsing Northern California Style..I love her post !
Cindy, I loved your gardening analogy to life. This connection speaks volumes to me…about our human seasons in life and how they compare to nature’s seasonal changes. I’ve always loved plants and at various times I’ve had glorious gardens. In fact, we bought a house on one acre in Toledo that had been owned by a Master Gardener. Need I say more? I’ve never experienced anything like it….she had everything choreographed to perfection and there was always something in bloom, year round. I managed to somewhat destroy the circle in the center filled with perennials by putting my bird feeder in the center and the deer loved the seed as well, trampling all the beautiful plants. Oops! Way back in a different lifetime, we had the first plant boutique in Ft Lauderdale called Botany Bend. And speaking of plants, you should see my huge Night Blooming Cereus that I am growing in my house! It’s one of my favorite plants I’ve ever had and since TX weather can be brutal, I’m thrilled that it’s thriving indoors. Thanks for sharing this thought provoking post!
I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS POST!
My husband is the gardener now…. and succulents and cacti have become his jam. They are resilient and hearty and they just keep going! They require c almost no water, can grow in rocky soil, sand or wherever, bugs don’t like them, and in rain or shine or fog they just keep going. Some bloom and some are just gorgeous varieties of green. He now finds interesting containers and replants all his babies – we have a potting shed full of little pots of succulents (does anyone one any?)
My husband has Parkinson’s and gardening has been the most therapeutic and healing activity for him, as gardening is for so many. Even helter- skelter gardens are beautiful!
Thanks, Cindy!
You gave us a moment to stop and smell the roses
I love this post! Such wonderful reflections. I also was a gardener, with a nearly 3/4 acre lot. Then I had a mild stroke, slowed me down and I lost a full season of gardening, letting weeds take over in some places. Then sciatica in 2022, same story. Then hubby had pulmonary embolism, twice. So he couldn’t help me last year. This year, no pun intended, “hope springs eternal”.
Your writing reminded me of a book by Dominique Browning, the final editor in chief of US House and Garden magazine. She published a book of essays, titled something like “Around the house and in the garden”. I looked her up because of your post today, and found she wrote another book: something like “lost my job, put on my pajamas” about the many simultaneous changes in her life. Adding that to my reading list.
And I added the pea salad to one of my Pinterest boards. Spring peas will be available very soon.
That is a beautiful and deep analogy, Cindy. Thank you for pointing out the ways in which a garden can be a teacher. I used to do all of my own gardening, even mowed the lawn, but have had to turn it over to gardeners. Now I don’t get the satisfaction I used to from being intimately involved. Even weeding can be enjoyable and almost therapeutic!
Your thoughts on gardening were so so beautiful. Thanks for taking the time to share these life lessons that help us celebrate each season’s treasure.
I read your posts daily but never comment-have to this time. What a wonderful message! I am recovering from hip replacement surgery, out on my deck, observing the honeysuckle & forsythia & daffodils-all reminders that all things renew in their time, as I will, too. Loved your post!
Hi Janet
I am so glad you have joined the conversation. I have had two hip replacements. I waited too long on the first one and was hobbling around with a cane. The second a year and 1/2 later. My husband does most of the gardening now, and I miss it so much. I am going to work on that in the next year!!
My husband has taken it over, too-we will be trying to get back to it together😊
Best post ever! Heart felt and true. Thank you for sharing these thoughts
Cindy – WOW. What a lovely reflection about life, aging and gardening. Thanks for sharing so many pearls of wisdom. A great read.
Cindy, this is so beautiful. Such a thoughtful post. I love the comparison of aging to a garden.
That pea salad looks amazing!
xo
Annie
Inspiring, honest and wonderful article!
A lovely post. Thank you for expressing the truth of changes.
This might be my favorite post of yours ever… “It means you keep going and sometimes what comes next is better than what you lost.” Just beautiful.
I want to make the pea salad tonight.