Jenny Block: Gardening as metaphor? No, as fresh start
We planted a garden one week before our wedding. It wasn’t pre-planned. It wasn’t intended to be some grand metaphor about sowing the seeds of love for the future of our marriage. It was just a garden. It was just a decision that could not have come at a better time.
Sometimes life pulls at you. Work. Family. Friends. Pets. Houses. Traveling. It’s all part of the wonderful lives we have designed for ourselves. But they can get to be a lot, even the very parts we love and would never dream of giving up. Pre-wedding jitters are a real thing, too. And even though everything was set, including the perfect team to execute it all, it was hard to think of anything else. Until Robin said, “I’m going to plant a few things out front.”
It was a simple statement. While at the time, I am sure I heard nothing more than, “I’m going to plant a few things out front” what my sub-conscious heard was, “Let’s focus on something else. Together.” We stood in the yard and talked about what to do with the waiting palette. Robin had renovated the ’70s-era lake house into a full-time residence. All that was left was landscaping.
We don’t always agree. In fact, we often compromise because of differing ideas and tastes and experiences. But that weekend, we were exceptionally gentle with one another, listening to ideas and discussing possibilities, letting go of attachments to earlier thoughts or plans. We thought and planned together like two people who are committed to more than pretty flowers, but rather to a lovely life.
Into the truck we jumped and off to Lowe’s we went. Robin stacking pavers on the cart as I wandered the aisles of plants and flowers and shrubs and trees. Then together, we chose plant by plant, flower by flower. It was interesting. There were no disagreements. It was as if we wanted, no needed, to simply agree on something simple.
And you know what? It was nice. Really nice.
When we got back to the house, we got down to the hard work of pulling out the old edging, installing the new pavers, pulling weeds, turning the soil, potting the plans, putting down the mulch. You get the idea. I even got the bright idea to pull out all of the monkey grass, and there was a lot of monkey grass.
I don’t know how much you know about monkey grass. I didn’t know much, other than that I’m not a fan. I learned that it has a serious root system. This wasn’t a matter of pulling out a handful of plants. Instead, it was a matter of plunging a pointed shovel into the ground, jumping on the little edges to get it really in there, then digging up the roots.
Robin thought I was nuts. “You’ll never be able to get all of that out,” she said. That was all I needed to hear.
We worked until the sun went down and, by God, that monkey grass was out of there. She was amazed. So was I. honestly. I’m not much of the gardening kind. Heck, I’m not much for the outdoors. But there it was: A pile of monkey grass and a beautiful, clean slate. And suddenly, it was impossible not to feel the metaphor hanging in the air, about doing the hard work, clearing the way, doing it together, treating each other gently, designing your vision, planting the seeds, and then spending your life tending what you have sowed and watching it bloom.
The next day, we were right back at it, and after another full day, we had transformed our humble entryway into a lovely garden of pots and plants, bricks and blooms. It was welcoming and cheery and it was all ours. Planting that garden was a happy accident. The intention had been to simply fill a few pots. So too is it with our relationship. A happy accident of the very best kind. The intention had been to meet someone new. To simply have a little fun.
Instead, we decided to commit to something far more beautiful. And with love and patience and kindness and hard work, I believe we have planted something that isn’t just beautiful for the right now. But also for the long run. Our relationship, like our garden, will have to be tended. But with just the right amount of love and light, we just might cultivate something beautiful that will bloom forever.
