June 25, 2010

The birds are were chirpolating. They were racketous and fluttertacious. The spring-to-summer everything newness was cross-species contagious and, between the sunfabulating and the rainbucketing, all was regenerational in spirit. I could hear it.

I heard it. I saw it. I smelled it, and yet… I was hearing, seeing, smelling from the outskirts (or the inskirts). I was watching and noting and appreciating the garden efforts of others, but was still stuck in my winter spirit, wearing black and watching the pageant unfold.

I walked through the garden center one day, determined to buy only things that I could commit to in that moment of purchase. A hanging flowering plant arrangement. I could water that. I could keep that alive. I also bought lobster compost and lime to take care of plants I’d already planted. I looked at but rejected the alyssum and the cilantro for their past failures to thrive under my care. I also rejected anything that would cause me to dig up a new bed.

As I walked through that gardener’s wonderland, I unearthed my worries that were preventing me from jumping into the joy of the burgeoning season, and I gave myself permission to just do whatever made me plant-happy and nothing more. Just then, I saw a six-pack of orangey-vibrant double begonias, and, just because they made me smile, I bought them.

A nice thing… finding and not forcing the happy thing, even just one thing, and letting it be enough.

4 Responses to “Enough”

  1. I have nothing to add to the above. I think it’s amazing and beautiful, and I’m going to remember this today.

  2. Gary Spykman said

    Love the words… you are your father’s daughter.

  3. Collie said

    Begoniatious, m’dear. Small funkblue sandwiched between the plume-etry.

  4. Dale said

    Summerlicious and life-tastic.

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