Honor Thy Weeding

It’s funny how life can throw us curveballs when we least expect. Call it coincidence that I have struck out during a season that literally celebrates rebirth and renewal. But as the saying goes; everything happens for a reason. What has kept me sane is my garden.

When you’re forced to slow down in a life that is typically robust it’s truly hard to cope – every day brings new challenges. Many of which I am not comfortable with and have had a hard time accepting.

So, what does an active gal do when forced to step outside of her skin and just be?

She sits with her garlic. She weeds. She envisions where all the little seedling starters will eventually go and thrive. She checks on these seedlings at least 20 times a day. She walks and appreciates the revival of the forest after a long winter. She watches the ants. She buys plants (retail therapy for the win).

A calming sensation genuinely lifts me up when I’m gardening. It’s my therapy. No stress involved – just the dirt and me. It has always been this way: before I was concussed, now while I’m concussed, and indefinitely when I’m past it.

There is something to be said about stopping to smell the roses. Going back to the simpler things gives us a greater appreciation of the bigger picture. Through my minor setback I have learned the importance of this phrase and will celebrate it beyond my recovery. Gardening has an effortless way of healing.

Spring. I surrender my ego to you… and the weeds in my garden.