A girl asked an artist how he knew when his painting was perfect, and he answered, “It’s never perfect, so I’ve learned to celebrate the small perfections.”
His response resonated with me because that is how I’ve learned to view my garden (as well as the rest of my life). When people drive by my house, they might see the finished art piece of my yard, but I see all the problems — the patches of brown grass and the encroachment of weed grasses in the lawn, the insect-nibbled flowers and the annuals past their prime, the overgrown areas and the undergrown areas, and all the other issues that make a landscaped yard less than picture perfect.
Celebrating the small perfections keeps me focused on what I can control. Not that I can control what blooms and what doesn’t, but there’s way too much that is beyond my control —weather, weeds, and insects being prime examples.
I can control the work that I do, and I can appreciate the results of that work, whether it turns out to be what I hoped for or not.
At this time of year, when the tomatoes seem to be wildly overshadowing all the other plants in their vicinity (even though I thought I allowed enough room, apparently, I didn’t), and when it’s obvious what will have to be changed for next year, it’s important for me to celebrate the beauty that I find in various nooks and garden spots.
It’s especially important to celebrate the small perfections when the rains and cool downs don’t happen. A garden is a collaborative effort between the gardener, nature, and the environment, and when one of those collaborators falls down on the job (what I view as their job, that is), there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.
Gardening is a learning experience — a growth experience in more ways than one — and while I am learning how to perfect my garden, I still manage to find some small thing (or several small things) to celebrate every day.
What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?
A fun book for not-so-fun times.
Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.
July 24, 2022 at 5:34 pm
Rome wasn’t built in a day. You are going to have your dream garden sooner or later.
July 24, 2022 at 7:46 pm
July 24, 2022 at 5:39 pm
Reminds me of something my high school English teacher said about story writing: a story is never perfect. It’s just done. You’ve given it all the edits you can and can’t do any more without marring what you’ve achieved. It’s just done.
July 24, 2022 at 7:46 pm
July 24, 2022 at 7:47 pm
I’ve always thought so. I quote it quite often.