Years ago, when I designed the basic layout of my garden, I had but one idea in mind: How to make a stroll through the garden take up as much time as possible. There are no straight lines from point A to point B. Instead, there are curves and branching paths everywhere.
It's impossible to see everything in the garden simply by starting at one end and coming out at the other. The visitor must sometimes go in circles or backtrack to take another path.
I find it extremely enjoyable and relaxing to wander around the garden in this fashion. As Henry David Thoreau wrote, "When I go out of the house for a walk, uncertain as yet whither I will bend my steps, I submit myself to my instinct to decide for me." A stroll through the garden can take an entire Sunday afternoon if I stop to admire every group of flowers.
One of the great disappointments of my life as a gardener is that other people don't appreciate this relaxed way of viewing the garden. I can gauge the self-induced stress level of each visitor by how far into the garden they are willing to penetrate. The most uptight people won't even step off the cement porch. These always-in-a-rush people take a quick survey of the garden from a safe distance, make a polite comment about its beauty, then hop back into their cars and hurry away before nature has a chance to lull them into a false sense of security.
Some people are willing to walk a few yards around the first loop with me, if I can lure them into the garden with the old "You've got to see this amazing flower" trick. But as soon as they've taken a quick peep, they head for the nearest exit. I suppose that they're afraid they might start to enjoy themselves and lose track of time.
My saddest experience was when a non-gardening neighbor asked if she could look at my back yard. I was flattered that she actually asked instead of needing to be cajoled into it. She proceeded to do a quick jog around the grass at the edge of the garden without setting a foot onto any of the mulched paths. After literally running in a circle around the grass, she headed for the driveway saying, "What a nice garden. There's so much to look at!" As I later lamented to my husband, I don't think she actually saw anything. She was running too fast.
One day in late summer when the annuals were at their peak, a well-dressed woman showed up with a camera. For a moment, my gardener's vanity overcame my reason, and I imagined that Better Homes & Gardens had sent a talent scout to preview my garden for an upcoming article.
"I'm Melissa," she introduced herself. "I need to take pictures of your house for your new insurance policy." Okay, I admit that I was a little disappointed.
In all my years as a gardener, I've had only four visitors who have undertaken a serious walk around the garden with me. Even though I tell myself that I garden for me, not for other people, nothing motivates me to keep planting flowers and pulling weeds as much as an admiring visitor with a true appreciation for plants. Luckily, I married a man who also enjoys prolonged strolls through the garden (as long as there's a reward at the end like some fresh strawberries or a little smooching on the garden bench).
I'm sure that many people sincerely intend to stop and smell the roses, the lilies, and the carnations....someday. But life gets in the way, doesn't it? Or maybe it's that nagging little voice that we all have in the backs of our heads that says, "Hurry up....Don't dillydally....Get to work....You can play later...." But later never comes.
Sometimes I find myself thinking this way. I spend hours in the garden, rushing from one pressing task to the next, not daring to stop because I'm afraid that I might get sidetracked watching the hummingbirds and never finish my work. Fortunately, I've read enough psychology books to provide me with an arsenal of sayings and quotes that I can use to fight the workaholic urge. Here's one that I made up myself: When I'm on my deathbed, I don't want to be caught saying, "Well, at least I kept my house clean and my garden weed-free."
This afternoon, after I finished shipping seeds, I laid back in the recliner with a book that my friend Andrea had sent me. But I didn't get very far before I started daydreaming about the garden. I realized that my day had taken an unexpected turn, and the best thing to do was to follow this new path. So here I am writing this article and contemplating the beauty of nature once again. And I'm thinking of how the Creator of heaven and earth must also smile when we stop along the winding path to smell His roses.
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