Growth

I shocked my parents on Saturday by telling them I had been in my yard…doing yardwork.  Perhaps more than anything else I’ve told them about recent changes in my life, this one fact had the effect of solidifying their belief that something transformational has occurred. (OK, maybe I’m exaggerating a little for effect, but I know it blew them away!)

When I decided to get busy in the yard, I suddenly realized I had neither tools (not even a rake!) nor knowledge of what to do.  My trip to Ace Hardware was an adventure, and the salesman refrained from laughing (much) when I explained that I wasn’t even sure what I would need first.  I left, the proud owner of a rake, a claw-thingy, a trowel, a sturdy pair of clippers and work gloves.  Later, after two hours of bending and squatting, my quads and glutes were complaining but the “yardie” was full and ready for its maiden voyage to the curb.  I was full of the satisfaction of hard work as I sat in the sun and dialed my parents’ number.

This morning, as I stand at the french doors in my dining room and look at the half-cleared plant bed bordering my patio, I can see several inches of new growth on the hostas and the various bulbs which, until Saturday, had been obscured and choked by approximately three years worth of detritus. In some ways, I feel like the plants surrounding my patio, putting tender new leaves and buds into the open for the first time. 

People and plants.  We thrive best when we are able to clear away debris from the past and lift our faces toward the sun of a new day.

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