When I first moved to my current address, I was a bit disappointed when I was requested not to plant anything in the ground. I was asked to please limit myself to potting flowers or plants on my porches. While at first that seemed a big restriction, I soon remembered an earlier home I lived in where I was on an half acre. Initially, I was ecstatic. A former owner was a gardening wizard and had all kinds of things growing from Spring to Fall, and lots of beds for the annuals of my choice. I particularly loved planting around my mailbox each year. (I’d never had a free-standing mailbox in my life, and this stood at the line where my property met the road.)
As an artist, I was loving creating fabulous color areas and changing them each year. Having come from an apartment, I also loved mowing the grass and raking the leaves of the many, many trees on my half acre. By about the fifth year, the enthusiasm was wearing off, and while I still loved my wonderful piece of land, life had gotten busier and I realized that all that landscaping was a major commitment. I never stopped doing it, but it had also become work.
So here I have a much smaller and more manageable gardening world … seating arrangements and tables which hold whatever annuals I pot for any particular year … and it’s just fine. This year I fell in love with, (among other flowers), miniature pansies, and planted two pots with two colors, a two tone purple and a delicate purple and yellow. Yesterday I started to pinch them back so they wouldn’t become too leggy, and rather than toss what I’d taken, I put them in a jelly jar on my desk. And here they sit, bringing a smile to my face each time I look at them.
I am reminded of how little it can take to bring happiness, and how something so utterly simple can be so extraordinarily wonderful. That the pansies are sitting in a jelly jar from the nearby farm that makes their own delicious jams, jellies and sauces even makes me happy. There are times when life’s stresses and busy-ness take us away from what’s right in front of our noses. And sometimes what’s there is really all we need.
Still A Dreamer 