It’s amazing what warm weather, a sunny day, and time in the garden can do for my mood. This past fall and winter were a struggle for me – I was anxious, stressed, and depressed. Cold days and long nights didn’t help.
What did help:
- Therapy
- Medication
- Learning to be kind to myself
- Weeding the garden
Didn’t expect that last one, right? Neither did I.
When I first started feeling like I could leave the couch and do something active, I wanted to garden. I wanted to smell flowers, pick tomatoes, and bask in the beauty of a lusciously full raised bed.
What I saw when I went outside was… not that.
I saw weeds, a cover crop I had planted with joyful energy, and dry leaves everywhere. It was muddy and dusty and not at all pretty. It looked like hard work, with no enjoyment. It looked overwhelming.
But, thankfully, I found myself with enough energy to at least start working toward my dream of a beautiful, peaceful garden. So I popped on some gardening gloves, grabbed a bucket, and went to work.
And worked.
And worked.
And worked some more.
For three weekends I weeded, pruned, and raked. I dug through piles of leaves, I snagged myself on thorns, I sweat through my shirt, and I went to bed sore. And at some point, through all of that labor, I gained more energy. I started finding joy in the fat earthworms and silly pill bugs. I started noticing the birds digging through my leaf piles and the volunteer sunflowers peeking out of the soil.
I started sitting outside in the morning, bundled up with a hot cup of coffee and a book. My social media scrolling significantly decreased. My stress levels at work dropped. I found myself wandering my backyard at random points in the day, observing, laughing, imagining.
I weeded my garden and found peace.
Now that spring is in full swing, some plants are in the beds, and seedlings are growing inside, I’m still out there, looking and imagining. I may not have nearly as many weeds to pull, but there is a new kind of peace to be found. The peace of fledgling birds learning to fly, the peace of snap peas growing along a trellis, the peace of pink radish peeking above ground.
There is the joy of a silly woodpecker who has claimed our yard as his territory and wants to make sure everyone knows. The joy of little bunnies hiding under the patio table, the joy of sitting outside in the evening to eat ice cream and dream about our future.
Like the plants gone dormant over winter, I emerged as the soil warmed.
