Reflections

TIME IN A GARDEN

My faithful spouse and agent has rigged my computer so that it regularly sweeps the web looking for the keywords Time-in-a-Garden. This week it came up with fragments of an amazing obituary from somewhere in Canada. Instead of sending flowers as a memorial , it read, spend time in a garden.
Whether we are gardeners or not, what an incredible tribute for anyone we love or have loved—a way to celebrate a life well and truly lived. And what a powerful message of love and hope it offers in this season when Americans traditionally decorate and tend the cemeteries of our land.
Take time to enjoy, that obituary urges. Life can be a struggle. But beauty is still there to experience—provided we recognize and embrace it for what it is. The richness and happiness we find in a garden doesn’t require a fat bank account or brass engraved nameplates. In a culture driven by over-achievement, there are times our greatest success may be our capacity to appreciate.
Search for permanence in the ephemeral. Setting a plant or seed or seedling into the ground is the consummate act of faith. Gardeners are not naive enough to assume what happens next comes easy. Stuff happens. YouTube brings us images of baseball-sized hail that plummet into a suburban swimming pool in Oklahoma like rocks tossed into a pond. Straight-line winds topple hundred-year-old evergreens and embed splinters in bark with the ease of a sewing needle penetrating a stick of butter. And still gardeners plant—faithfully cultivate the art of growing if only for a season.
Look for strength in humility. Even when the rains come hard and fast, my iris haven’t given up. Heavy with bloom, the bent stalks draw their support from the mounds of day lily leaves cascading behind them. Gardens teach us about community at its best, especially the graceful art of sharing.
Cultivate the joy of Now. How often have we said, Tomorrow—instead of throwing ourselves heart and soul into the moment. Who knows when the petals on the peonies will begin to fall in a feathery shower? No day planner can pinpoint when the fragrance of the rose begins to fade.We need to stop and marvel when and where we can.