I do not call myself a gardener. I used to, but that was before I had a travel agency, a podcast, and a house in a part of the country known for 100° days for weeks or even months at a time. I used to love digging in the dirt, planting flowers, training vines to grow up trellises, deadheading flowers to encourage more blooms, and cutting fresh herbs to use in my cooking. I used to take great pride in the corn, pumpkins, and beans I had grown in a small corner of my yard. I spent hours watering, cultivating, and finally harvesting my tiny little crops of goodness. I think about those days longingly, but then I look at the pile of paperwork on my desk, and the multitude of emails in my inbox, and I am sad. Sad that I am no longer a gardener.
The change was very gradual. Right up to the first spring of the pandemic, I had been the person in our household who cleaned out the flower beds and set out new plantings each spring. I was the one who pulled the stray weeds in the yard and in the cracks of the sidewalk. I hadn’t mowed the yard in years; that task had been taken over by my husband when we moved to this house in 2007. He was aided in that task by our teenage son until he eventually gave up that task to a lawn service. But even then, I still had a few herbs growing here and there: a rosemary bush that I had replanted at least 3 times before it took off; a little basil in a sunny spot, and, of course, several varieties of mint here and there.
After the lawn, the herbs were the first to go. I couldn’t keep up with the rosemary. It grew so fast once it took hold that it quickly took over half the flower bed. We’d harvest what we needed, but the plant became a woody shrub that the bunnies loved to hide in. Then we had a big freeze and it died off. I haven’t had the heart to replant it. The basil went much faster, as did the cilantro. It was much too warm here, and the bugs and bunnies got most of it. The mint is still there, in a few places. It doesn’t really get enough sun, and the dog keeps digging in those beds, so there’s only a little sprig of it here and there.
When COVID started, I had my mother here with me. She took up a lot of my time. And when I wasn’t tending to her, I was trying (mostly in vain) to run my little travel agency and keep up with the work and my taxes amidst the distraction of too many people in the house all day because of lock-down. Hubby, who was bored because he had no work, took it upon himself to clean out the flower beds one day and plant some lovely flowers. I was grateful, because it was one more thing on my list of to-do items that I just didn’t have time for. I didn’t even realize at the time how much I missed it, but then the next year, I didn’t have time, nor then next, and suddenly I realized I hadn’t tended my garden in a very long time. And sadly, I wasn’t even motivated to do it at all. Now, I think about gardening, and it’s like some abstract thought of something I “should” want to do, but I kind of really don’t.
I see this happen a lot. Heck, it’s happened to me a lot. I have a hobby I love. I love it so much I do it all the time. I just can’t get enough of it. And then something happens and I can’t do it for a while. And then I can’t get back in the groove. Then I don’t want to get back in the groove. Or do I? Most of the time, I can’t bring myself to admit that I don’t like it any more. I just keep promising myself that I’ll start again. Soon. That’s what I tell myself. Soon.
It happened with crocheting. I crocheted so many afghans, pillows, scarves, sweaters, and pot holders. I was part of an online group that chatted about crocheting every day. And then I got busy and quit crocheting as much. Suddenly, I realized I hadn’t crocheted anything in years. I picked up a hook and some yarn, and somehow it just wasn’t as satisfying as it had been before, and I really didn’t enjoy it as I used to. But I couldn’t get rid of my yarn and my hooks. Yes, I culled the stash quite a bit, but I haven’t been able to convince myself that my love of crochet is gone. I might still want to do it someday, right?
And that’s the way it is with gardening. I want to garden, but really I just want to want to garden. It’s as if I could will myself to have the desire to garden if I think about it long enough. If I keep imagining all the pretty flowers I could grow or the vegetables I could harvest, then I’ll be motivated to get out there and do it. If I keep holding onto those crochet hooks and yarn long enough I might decide to crochet again. But let’s get real – you can’t will yourself to want something if you don’t already want it.
And that’s the trouble with a lot of goals and intentions. We all tend to choose goals that we think we should choose, and not necessarily the goals that we really already have. You can’t make yourself lose weight by telling yourself that you want to lose weight. You can’t save money for an emergency fund by telling yourself that you should save money. You have to already want those things before you can make it your goal. So stop making things that you “should” do your goals. Make your goals the things that you already want.
This month, we are entering the second quarter of the year, and if you set goals in January, you’ve had three months to figure out if those goals are working for you. In previous years, we would have called it a “goals refresh”. That’s when we look at our progress, decide if our goals accurately reflect what we truly desire, and whether the steps we are taking are the right steps. How are your goals looking to you? Are your goals the things you really want, or are you like me? Did you choose goals that you thought you “should” choose and now you’re struggling to make them happen? Are you telling yourself that you want a certain goal because it was something you didn’t finish last year? Or has it been on your list of things to do for a long time and you are just now getting to it? As you reassess your goals, ask yourself, “Is this still meaningful to me? Is this something I still want? Do I really want it, or am I just trying to convince myself that I should?”
I’ve decided my garden can wait. Someday, I may choose to go back to my garden, and when I do, it will be because I want that more than I want anything else. When that happens, I will be in that moment, loving my garden and all the time I spend in it. I won’t have to tell myself that I “should” garden and I won’t have to struggle to find the time for it because it will be the thing that I most want to do. Right now, what I truly want is more time with my family. More time with my art. More time writing, crafting, and creating. So, those are the goals I am setting right now because those are the only goals that make sense. They are the only goals that I will actually follow through on, and they are the only goals that really matter. That’s the garden I’m growing. What about you?
How’s your garden growing? Do you have old hobbies, tasks, and items on your to-do list that you can never seem to get to but feel like you should? What would happen if you just decided you don’t want to do it anymore? Tell us about it in the comments below, or start a conversation on our MMC Chat group.
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