Letting It Grow: A Lesson in Patience and Trust in the Universe
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Below.
Wouldn’t it have been ridiculous if….?
The house I live in now had a hot tub when we moved into it. Evidently, this house had been a real entertainment spot for the previous residents—a Colonel who entertained his lieutenants with back yard beer parties. We didn’t use the hot tub very much—it was later struck by lightning and was derelict after that until I had it and the whole rotting deck removed a few years back, all of which has now been replaced by a lovely little garden patio I laid myself, complete with pots of fuchsia and purple impatiens, a chimenea, and a garden seat.
One of my favorite things from the days (or nights, I should say) of owning a hot tub was being able to relax in the hot water on a cold, dark moon night and stare up at the sky full of stars. I always felt so at-one-with-Nature out there.
The only problem was, I wanted the spot to be a little more secluded. Never mind that I have friends who view satellite imagery and I used to joke about waving to them…. I wanted privacy in my own back yard, at least from the neighbors, and the new neighbors behind my house had just added a couple of 50-megajoule lights to their garage, directly facing my backyard and lighting up everything in its path like the sun burning across the horizon in some science fiction movie where Vin Diesel is frantically running to stay ahead or be toasted. Even with an 8-foot fence around the perimeter, there was no place to hide, and sneaking in and out of the hot tub was just too much like a spot light and a prison break.
I preferred to have a gazebo built but we were too
cheap for that, so I planted some trees along the back of the yard and some tea olives and other shrubs around the patio. Then the hot tub was struck by lightning, and after it became a death trap for squirrels that couldn’t fly or swim, I boarded it up and used the top to feed birds.
Yesterday on my patio, I realized that the neighbor’s laser-quality lights no longer cut across my yard. The trees along the fence line and in the back wooded area of my yard have grown tall and cut out the light pollution at night. The tea olives and shrubs around the patio are taller than I am now, and they form a secluded border along the western edge of the patio.
Years ago, I knew what it was I wanted, but it took a little time to grow it.
Wouldn’t it have been ridiculous if, a year after I’d
planted them, I said, “Hey, I don’t have that tall hedge yet so this isn’t a worthy goal. No, I’m going to cut down those trees and shrubs right now instead of waiting another minute!”?
The hot tub is long gone, but a pretty little romantic patio is now there instead, secluded on two sides, another vision of something I’d wanted years ago, too.
Some of my goals are longer term than others and some take a little more time to grow to fruition than others, but if I cut them down while they’re still growing, they’ll never reach their full potential. Some goals grow completely on their own, with little or no effort from me beyond the initial action of planting the seeds and keeping them watered.