Longing for greener pastures

I know I have been in the city too long when scenes of open fields, country roads and waving wheat immediately sends me into wistful revelry. I don’t know how it happens, but I suddenly find myself staring at a news story or television show and wondering how to get back to a place where I am not surrounded by millions of people in every direction.

You might think my garden could offer up some solace and, in fact, it does. Wandering through my small little plot of relative wilderness helps to ease my mind, but it almost as if the pressure of the city is constantly there, pressing down on me from every side with no way to escape.

I need to consciously remind myself that there is a rare beauty to my garden. Even though I night see all the troublesome areas and the work that needs to be done, there is a sense of wholeness and comfort to be found there. I am made most aware of this whenever we have visitors. They don’t see the broken sprinkler head or the clump of dead Nandina. They see towering trees, a welcoming garden swing, roses abloom and birds a-flutter. My garden is a unique environment to them, whereas I see it with the “contempt” of someone overly familiar with its contents.

We have had a summer garden party every year for the last several years. This is a great occasion to invite people into our garden and remind me of its wonders. Unfortunately, this year, other commitments have left us no time in the schedule and I am feeling the results.

A garden needs appreciation from myself and others. Without it, I become jaded, grumpy, cynical and difficult to live with. Maybe missing the party wasn’t the best thing for me this year. Despite the cleanup work and organizational issues, I think I could have used a nice get-together after all. Woulda, coulda, shoulda always rear their heads at the most useless times.