Yesterday ranked among the top ten worst days I can remember. And, it wasn’t just one thing that made it awful. All day, the bad news just kept rolling in. By evening, it got to the point that when Bob pointed out that our in-recovery Beta fish was laying on the bottom of his bowl, I shrugged and numbly replied, “If the poor guy dies today, I won’t be surprised.” If you know me, you know it takes a lot for me to reach a point where empathy is outside my reach. Yesterday, got me to that point.
Among other things, my darling, happiest-girl-in-the-world niece Isabella was bitten in the face by a dog. One of my best friend’s sweet cats was hit by a car and died. My friend moved to another state so fast we didn’t have a chance to say good-bye. Another friend’s mother had a severe stroke and was taken off life support. Shall I go on? I could; there’s more….
But, no. Odds are I’ve already shared enough for you to have likely named dubbed me “Debbie Downer” and clicked off the page. So, in case you’re still here, I just want to turn the mood around.
Today I got out in the field. I worked hand-in-hand with one of the most faithful Garden Mentors clients, Mrs. C. And, it grounded me.
When I arrived, late and shaken off my usual A-game, she smiled and welcomed me, with a sniffle. Despite feeling under the weather, she was looking forward to working with me, her long-time Garden Mentor. For two hours we evaluated, dug, divided, discussed, trimmed, layered, photographed and chatted. Her appreciation. Her enthusiasm. Her general love of her ever-improving and always-evolving garden brought me back down to Earth. Our gardening session reminded me why I love being her Garden Mentor.
As the sign says, Garden Mentors provides encouragement, empowerment and joy in the garden — to people and to the planet. Who wouldn’t love doing that? Even during a time when the Universe or God or whatever-you-call-the-unknown is dishing out the ugliest of the hard stuffs of life, getting into the garden manages to literally bring me down to earth, grounding me in the truest sense, reminding why I love what I do. Sure, the ugly stuff is still ugly and the painful stuff still hurts. But, being out there in the wind and rain and sunshine and plants and death and bunny damage and new life and dirt and slugs and bugs building a garden with a gardening enthusiast like Mrs C. somehow makes all the bad news a little less sharp and painful. Sharing knowledge, success and even failure in the garden simply brightens the edges of every dark cloud not with a silver lining but instead with an unsurpassed, gorgeous, glistening flower bed springing forth in every joyful color of the rainbow.










