I'm a gardener. I'm not an excellent gardener, but no time in the soil can be wasted. We have found a small rhythm of smallish projects that keep us busy. Our yard and garden are the result of a large forgotten, for-closed subdivision lot. We have 3 raised beds we have now given over to sunflowers, zinnias and jalepeno` peppers. There is even an asparagus bed that has taken good hold. Occasionally we pick up a few bushes and plant within numerous outcroppings of lush perennials. My hope is to draw pollinators and grow glorious color. There is, though, one plant that will not die. The battle I've waged with this one has been unsuccessful, and its prominence right out my kitchen window is all the more insulting. A moonflower is a thing of wonder. Their most beautiful bloom is so unique. Yet it grows on a plant so awkward in its form. At a distance it is tolerable. I know this, because my neighbor has one in his yard. It is hardly noticeable until it blooms. But up close, it's awkward stalks are unstoppable. Persistent, unyielding, it rises like a bouquet of bamboo, with too many knuckles and ankle joints. The bloom begins, but appears, up until the point of blossom, like a spent and faded yellow tissue. But then it blooms and all of the anticipation(dread) has been worth what might be thought an accident. For all the frustration, it showed me. It's pointless to try to improve it, shape it, mold it. It's going to be just what it was created to be. I just get to watch it bloom. Despite my attempts to amend and cause effect, instead I am offered the up-close seat to appreciate and witness.
If I had been around in the planning of this yard, I might have been able to offer better locations for some of the landscaping. If I was wise, I would have given it a better place, to be seen in a more complimentary profile. But I wasn't, and ignorantly would have likely torn it away with an earthmover. I've accepted tree stumps in all the wrong places (I know how to handle those), but up until this 10th year of working this yard, I've never allowed this plant to take it's rightful place in the scheme of our 'garden,' just as it is. There are some things that can't be fixed, time and opportunity lost are just that- lost. And perhaps the original essence would have been altered with change. Damaged roots sometimes never recover. The perfection I've sought just isn't as important as learning the lesson of acceptance, contentment, and observation.
The garden of perfection is long gone. But the opportunity to see beauty in creation is never ending. Quit kicking and chopping. Appreciate it's beauty. Let it grow tall. Watch it bloom.
