This basket is filled with the trimmed roses that were bending their stalks. The rosebush struggled under its own burden, masking its beauty in fatigue.
Before we found this house and its gardens, I walked through the area neighborhoods around our rental house and prayed for a home. During those moments, I set aside my frustrations with not being settled during a pandemic, my husband’s deployment, and our children’s resulting difficulties. I focused on all that I was grateful for. I reminded myself: We transformed our careers and lives before the pandemic demanded it. I have the freedom and flexibility I need to reach, hold, and shield my family as needed. We have what we need. We have our health. We are blessed. And I want a stable home.
I trusted the right house would come. We had looked at many and were under contract for one. Another was perfect on paper but lacked the “this is it” feeling. As our search extended, I saved the picture below to my vision board. It captured the feeling I wanted in a space. Sometimes I looked at it and thought I was dreaming too big. I assured myself I was going for the overall mood of a creative space. I didn’t need the A-shaped roof, skylights, beams, fireplace, or the flowers.
As COVID-19 squeezed our world into the walls of our rental, virtual school started, my husband left for NYC, and I found myself without a network of neighbors, I wondered if I had been too picky during the previous year of house hunting. When my husband returned, we thought maybe we’d made a mistake in moving to California. We considered moving back to the East Coast where we had family support and a network of friends. We reminded each other that we make good decisions and can trust the process. Still, as the pandemic continued, our desire for stability grew urgent. I felt that we needed a stable home before the school year started. We gave ourselves until the end of July 2020 to find a home.
Within a week, our realtor called. “It doesn’t have the number of bedrooms you’re looking for, but you need to see it.” The overgrown backyard sold me immediately. I realized we had finally found it. As I walked through the house to take it in more slowly, I noticed it had everything in the picture I had saved: a room with an A-shaped roof, skylights, beams, fireplace, and flowers. I had found more than just a home for our family. I found my creative space.
The overgrown yard filled with roses, hydrangeas, jasmine, and wisteria sold me. I had no idea that the owners would leave behind the garden treasures I saw nor that many more were kept secret, waiting to be found. As I discovered each treasure, my Facebook friends followed and delighted in my journey. They encouraged me to keep writing about the discoveries after I left Facebook. “They inspire me,” one woman said. “They help me in my grief,” another said. That’s how Story Garden was born.
When we moved into the house, we noticed a large broken branch in the willow. We hired an arborist to trim the trees, remove bushes, and prune back the overgrown plants. I felt sad when his team left. Many of the overgrown plants I loved didn’t seem as beautiful. The climbing vines didn’t travel up to the windows as they had before. Their flowers were gone. The willow seemed empty.
I missed the mess.
This year, however, all the plants look better. They grew back healthier and are thriving. The weighed-down rose bush from the beginning of this story, receives regular trims, and its stalks stand tall.
Ther’s a circle to the progress: The roses grow. I cut them. I share them. They grow again. When we don’t trim plants properly, they don’t reach their potential. They may even break under their own weight. Diseases may set in. The plants may stop blooming.
Over the past few months, our calendars have filled up again. All four boys are in sports. I’m starting to lose track of who has to be where when. School is no longer virtual, which gives me time to work. I’ve opened up my work calendar a bit and have filled some hours with writing as I collaborate with colleagues to make more psychotherapy and play therapy resources.
I’m starting to feel the squeeze of life resumed with the added stressors of the continuing pandemic. The mental load is heavier now too. Everything requires more energy and focus.
Three years ago, we began our journey of cutting back our over-scheduled lives. We were the arborists we needed. Then, the pandemic came and trimmed back our lives even more. I felt empty even though I was squeezed flat by life. This home and garden gave me the space I needed to open up and fill up. To breathe. To be. To become.
The abundance that fills my calendar is beginning to weigh me down. It’s time to pick up the pruning shears again. It’s time to make some clear decisions of what to hold on to and what to let go of.
So I can hold on to me.