By Teresa Smith, Journal contributor
I am feeling kind of bad about the state of my overgrown, messy yard and garden.
I hear my neighbors already up and mowing, I feel judgmental of myself for not having a neater yard. There are too many weeds in my garden and around the house. Things are getting out of hand and growing too fast for me to keep up. I am feeling wilted like the dogwood that needs water.
I sit here in the early morning sunshine. I am writing to remind myself to return to my heart. As I sit, I am soothed by the birds singing, and a covey of quail. The new babies are no more than 2 inches long.
A change of heart filters in and I think I will let the trees be the judge. Let the quail as they peck and find nest in my overgrown native snowberry and wildrose wilderness be the jury. I will check in with the birds to see if they miss a nicely pruned landscape. The jury is out. I am the only one judging here. I am the only one who feels wilted and bad about the weeds. And so, I embrace the magic of imperfection and listen to the abundance of life in these wild overgrown places.
Crazy as it sounds, letting things go, and allowing things to be wild, are my way of taking care of this land. I encourage the native plants so they can nurture and feed the bees and bugs so the birds and other animals can live here. Not just live but thrive. Every nootka rose or snowberry I remove and replace with something neater and possibly prettier, eliminates a home, nest, forage, den or burrow.
I listen. I hear more birds than I can count. I see. The pair of doves who live here year-round, sit on the garden fence as if to say hello. I feel. There is an energy here. Life force energy of all the living things. All the love and spirit on this land and all the creatures I have met and so many more I cannot see. This wild place feeds my soul. Makes me happy. And so, I embrace the magic of imperfection and messiness in honor of all the creatures from tiny to big. And I nurture my soul so I can feel watered and no longer wilt.
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