I mentioned yesterday that it had suddenly struck me with amazement — again — that I was living in such a beautiful place.
And the same feeling struck me again today.
It makes sense why I feel so grateful and so blessed; I live in a truly magical place. I was out working in the yard today — overdoing it as usual — and for a change, I stopped to rest on my pretty bench because I was too tired to drag myself to a chair under the gazebo.
I sat there musing about my magic place. A few seeds, a few plants, some water, and suddenly, there it is — a magnificent yard, with views on every side. (Not suddenly, not really, but as the saying goes, nothing happens then everything happens.)
I’m not being ingenuous. When I moved here, there wasn’t much but weeds, dirt, and a rotting garage, so obviously I did a lot of work, but still, isn’t it magic? I didn’t really have anything to do with the plants sprouting from seed and then growing and having babies, and all of them showing off for me. I gave them the space and opportunity to do what they needed to do, but the rest was them. All the intelligence they needed to know what to do was in them, packed in a tiny kernel of information. I could only marvel at their cleverness at being able to do all the real work.
It’s a good thing they know how to come to life because I don’t. Putting the seeds and started plants in soil and watering what doesn’t die is about all I know how to do.
And apparently, it’s enough. Because sitting there, I saw a whole lot of beauty.
To the right of the garage is the gazebo, of course, and the raised garden, filled with petunias and a whole lot of moss rose that planted itself. There are also dozens of marigolds that decided they wanted to join the petunias and moss rose, but I am thinning those and transplanting them elsewhere.
In front of the bench where I am sitting and to the left of the garage is . . . well, all I can call it is a mini park. Toward the back are the four food plants I just put into the ground as well as a patch of wildflower seeds. Behind the bushes, the lily forest is growing so very tall. One lily towers over me! With any luck, I’ll be seeing flowers in a couple of weeks.
And peeking from behind the bushes, along the fence, are the hollyhocks that planted themselves.
True magic.
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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One
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