“Every moment and every event of every man’s life on Earth plants something in his soul.” -Thomas Merton
Today I found some time to purchase and plant four double impatiens, two African iris, two creeping fig and one yellow kangaroo paw. Save for a few weeds that I needed to pull prior to letting my new friends get situated in their new home, the backyard flowerbed was bare. It needed some love, and I think it got it.
I’m looking forward to seeing everything settle in and get comfy — especially the creeping fig. The 5′ block wall at the rear of the flowerbed isn’t the most beautiful thing to look at when you’re trying to get a lush, serene feel, and I knew I wanted something to cover it up since a new fence isn’t in the cards. After wandering through my local Lowe’s garden center for what felt like an eternity, I decided the frilly creeping fig was the way to go. Bonus points that it apparently grows like a weed, too.
Despite all the plant talk, I’ve never had the greenest of thumbs. If there’s a potted flower inside, I generally manage to kill it swiftly, and as though I’d been subconsciously plotting against it the whole time.
Freshly cut flowers are my ideal, and I try to buy them weekly. They beautify, and they’re guilt-free.
Indeed. They rule. They’re not hanging out in dirt, which I like because dirt implies the promise of a long life, assuming you’re able to take care of them properly. It’s like a little ecosystem, which I promptly annihilate by overwatering. Overwatering leads to massive amounts of guilt, likely because of my personal fear of drowning — which I’ve just done to the plant.
(I realize I may need therapy for my indoor flower issues.)
If there’s a pot of flowers outside, I also kill those — again by overwatering.
But if there’s a pothos in the house, I usually do OK with them — mainly because the more I forget they’re around, the more they thrive.
Fake plants might be the best ever. (Alright, not really. But they do hang around for quite a while, and they tolerate my multi-surface Pledge quite nicely whereas the live ones always seem to have a problem with the stuff. Odd.)
Everything aside, I’m pretty sure what I planted outside in the dirt will do well — primarily because I had guidance from a Lowe’s garden lady, not because I’m smart or anything.
So what’s the deal with the plant/flower post tonight? It was a cathartic and therapeutic way to pass the time, planting was. Even weeding got me into a tranquil state of mind, although my back and the knee aren’t too happy with me right now. But in a week when I’m able to see the difference, or in a month — or in six months’ time, I can look back and remember the calm they brought on the day they were planted.
They definitely had their demands, though. They couldn’t be planted too closely together, they needed more room in the ground than their container currently allowed them, and they needed potting soil to kickstart everything. They need watering, maybe some Miracle-Gro now and again and they need pruning.
It’s not unlike us, is it? I know that I’m similar. I don’t immediately like a crowd, but if you give me the space and I’m allowed to ease into something, no gathering is too big. If you put me somewhere, I’ll stay for however long — but I need some wiggle room and a comfy, nourishing environment to really take off. I need the basics, with maybe a dash of R&R and me-time here and there, and when my plate gets too full, I’ll be the first to clear parts of it.
Tonight I am thankful for a flowerbed full of new beginnings. Here’s to a wide-open life ahead of us, and a chance to plant our own new beginning each day.