Growth is the only evidence of life. ~John Henry Newman, Apologia pro vita sua, 1864
When we moved from California, I left behind 3 gardens: a bulb garden where I had planted about 350 bulbs that would bloom from spring through summer, a cutting garden which produced lovely bouquets for our home, and a small vegetable garden. As much as I hated leaving behind friends and family, I ached over leaving my gardens on the cusp of blooming.
Moving to Colorado and learning how to work the hard clay soil in a desert (yes, desert) climate has been a challenge. It’s taken years of adjusting plans and amendments. I’ve played with different plants and moved many more than once. In addition to your standard garden insects, I’ve battled invasive, obnoxious bunnies, skunks, squirrels, and raccoons that steal produce. In essence, I’ve become Mr. McGregor. Nonetheless, the excitement I feel when the first sprout breaks through the earth or a bud appears on a rose-bush never grows old.
I think that’s the greatest gift my garden offers me; year after year, there’s a reminder of the excitement found in growth. Like parenting, growth takes nurturing, and planning, and is sometimes uncomfortable but, from growth, comes beauty and abundance.
This morning, I invite you to think about growth as you visit my summer garden.