Gardening season is upon us, and I adore this time of year for so many reasons. It feels like turning a page from the winter blues – the hope of growth, the anticipation of what’s ahead… all of it wrapped up in a sense of positive expectation, a feeling I’m always chasing.
This weekend, my little one and I tilled our garden boxes and planted a variety of seeds across the four beds we covet. One by one, we sprinkled them in, covered them with soil, watered them, and moved on to the next packet, starting the process all over again. For months, I’ve been dreaming of this day – hoping for warm weather, sunshine, and freshly-turned soil. I’ve collected seeds, organized them by color and variety, and carefully considered how I would lay them all out. I’ve pictured blooms I’ve never grown before and imagined how everything will come together at the height of the season.
This is the kind of thing I think about for a little spark of joy. It’s where my mind goes when I’m stressed or worn down by a long to-do list. It’s my dopamine fix when I need it.
So, when the day finally comes – when my hands are in the soil, like a kid on Christmas morning, I am overjoyed.
This year feels especially meaningful. My baby boy is three-and-a-half years old now, bent beside me in play clothes that don’t quite match, his fedora hat turned the wrong way. Dirt up to his elbows. And for the first time since he was born, he’s fully in it with me. He can’t possibly picture what it will all look like when it grows, but he’s just as curious as I am and just as excited.
As I watch him carefully cover the seeds with his tiny hands, I find myself wondering: what all will our hands touch together in his lifetime? What will we explore with that same curiosity? What else will we grow? Will his clothes ever match? Will he always wear his hat backwards?
Motherhood, I’ve found, is filled with wondering. So much looking ahead to future milestones and moments, while trying to stay rooted in the one you’re living right now. There’s always something new to look forward to in each chapter, even as you hold tightly to the present.
I’m three years into this journey now, and every year looks a little different – just like my garden. But what joy it is to grow, to wonder, and to look forward to what’s next. I’m learning that gardening is a lot like motherhood… planting, tending, and waiting. So much of it is unseen at first, happening quietly beneath the surface, roots taking hold before anything ever blooms. Both gardening and mothering often take time, patience, and a whole lot of faith to see the fruits of the labor. I know that what lies ahead in my garden is bound to be beautiful. I’m doing the work for it to flourish into its fullest potential, just as I am in mothering this wee boy. All of it matters, and along the way, we’ll be sure to stop and smell the flowers.
-by Destini McPherson
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