08/21/2025
I stepped into the garden carrying guilt. The tomatoes haven’t come in like they usually do. The zucchini and cucumbers already fizzled out. I missed the abundant second lavender harvest, and let the lemon balm grow wild until all that’s left are dry flower stalks. Everywhere I looked, I saw reminders of what I didn’t get to.
But then, I took a pause, something shifted. The overwhelm of my to-do list gave way to a different kind of overwhelm: joy, humbleness, gratitude. The dahlias blooming and already going to seed, promising more beauty for next year. The bees hum happily over the mint I thought was too unruly to keep. Butterflies, moths, hummingbirds, ladybugs—all reminding me that life continues to flourish here, even without my careful tending.
And I’m humbled. Because this season, the garden has grown more on its own than through my hands. It makes me wonder, am I ever the one tending the garden, or is it the garden that’s been tending me?
