When cultivating my garden, I think about the changes over time. Year to year, season to season, what nurturing does the garden need?
Harsh winters, grueling summer heat, cultivation takes time, consideration, patience, thoughtfulness, understanding; throw in a few sprinkles of kindness, awareness, grace; maybe a pinch of luck (just to name a few). By now, those seasons and years foster awareness, insight. Complacency is not in the vocabulary.
Remember, cultivation requires investment.
Personally, take out the garden and insert my Dad, our relationship. What is he facing in his life? How must it be? Where did the time go?
He’s 81. Still active. Humorous. Difficult. He’s sharp; well, sharp like one of those gardening tools in the shed. Yeah, that’s right. The ones that have weathered those summers, winters, harsh conditions.
Eight decades. Many seasons. Fires in the fireplace. Success, success through adversity; survived the death of two spouses; retirement (just to name a few).
What does he do, now? How does he define success? What is the shape of meaning after exiting his career? Does he ask himself, how do I step forward? Is the step into the unknown any different now from all the other times? Watershed moment?
How do I step forward…?
How does he step, when he feels his best friends of 60 years, those guys who have collectively cultivated greater gardens, face dementia, cancer, physical problems, those who have already departed this physical world?
Harsh summer heat. No rain. An infestation of bugs. Contaminated soil.
Where to start? Cultivate?
Burn out or fade away?
My Dad has a lot of miles on his body. Most, at 81, do. Good miles, and not so good miles (picture Cole Trickle’s Daytona 500 car in the academy award-worthy, Days of Thunder).
Dents. Scratches. Replaced parts.
A lot of miles.
A lot.
In fact, when he parks his car on his final day, I may dedicate his body to science (not really).
Back to the garden. Infested? Contaminated? Take a deep breath, survey the scene. Let go of reacting in fear, absolutes. Respond.
This garden is tough, resilient, fight in the dog; handled much more than a few bugs, bacteria, and, dirt.
Yup, dirt.
If you were to ask the garden, the garden may wink, smile, and share:
“I got this. Been here. Been here many times. It’s not the dog in the fight.”
Wink.
My garden. My Dad.
At this stop on the tour, how do I cultivate our garden? Needs? Respond not react. Fear. Frustration. Worry. Control. Acceptance. Amazement. Love.
Lots of love.
How do I…?
The garden. My Dad. I got this.
Been here before. Remember:
Cultivation takes time, consideration, patience, thoughtfulness, understanding; throw in a few sprinkles of kindness, awareness, grace; maybe a pinch of luck (just to name a few).
Love.
And handfuls of…
love.
